#one suitor one prompt ccc

[violettduchess]

A/N: An entry into my own One Suitor, One Prompt Content Creation Challenge as well as fulfilling a request for my Broken Heartstrings series

Prompts: Water from the first, Only One Bed from the second.

WC: 3.5 k

The King of Benitoite slowly lowers his crystal flute bubbling with rose-colored prosecco. Carlo is by his ear, mumbling something but Silvio isn’t paying attention. His sharp blue eyes are on the gray marbled dance floor of the ballroom where couples are passing by the raised dais in dazzling displays of glittering jewels and shiny, flowing gowns. One couple in particular has caught his attention: the third prince of Rhodolite and you, former Belle and newly-minted ambassador. Silvio tilts his head, his crown sliding ever so slightly forward over his silvery hair. Clavis is smiling, that guy is always smiling, but somehow this is different. There is a certain softness around his mouth, a brightness in his golden eyes that Silvio can observe even from here. And you, lady, are no different. Your hand is gripping Clavis’s tightly, your face tilted up towards him like a flower to the sunshine. You two dance like you are the only people in the ballroom, like the orchestra is playing just for you.

Hmm. Silvio takes a long sip from his glass.  Suddenly he turns his head, snapping his fingers and stopping the flow of Carlo’s litany on the various nobles in attendance.

“Tell the band-”

“The orchestra, your Majesty.”

“Whatever. Tell ‘em to play ‘Moonlight on Water.’ That slow-ass song you told me about last week.”

Carlo frowns slightly. “But the guests seem to be enjoying the Almain.” It is indeed a lively dance that has people throwing back their heads and laughing a bit too loudly, gliding through the steps buzzing with wine and fast tempo.

“Do it.”

Carlo scurries off and Silvio watches out of the corner of his eye as the conductor bends his head, listening as the dark-haired man delivers the king’s orders.

It takes only a few minutes for the music to shift and what was a cheerful, energetic dance slows to something softer. Couples step closer together, arms winding around waists, bodies almost touching. He watches as you and Clavis come to a stop, taking in the way the dance floor has changed moods. Your blush paints your cheeks with the sweetest heat. Clavis drops your hand, stepping back as he looks around, his smile in place but his eyes move too quickly to be as calm as he is trying to seem. He says something to you and Silvio doesn’t need to hear the words because they don’t matter. It’s the slight forward pitching of his stance, the waver of his gaze, the tension cording its way across his shoulders that gives away his nervousness.

And then you smile, nodding, and step into Clavis’s arms. It’s impossible to miss the shower of relief that overwhelms him as he gathers you close and begins the slow steps of the dance. Silvio takes another deep sip of champagne. He’s rather had fun with the two of you on your diplomatic visit to Benitoite. Clavis is far shrewder than he appears and you are the perfect ambassador, with your warmth and intelligence and face that would melt the snow on the Achroite mountain peaks. And seeing how you both have King Chevalier’s ear, wouldn’t it be fitting if it was here, in his kingdom, that you two finally acted upon what is clearly a mutual attraction to one another? Wouldn’t it be a fond memory of his country to take back home and perhaps, with associations of love and romance, keep decisions tilted in his favor?

There  is only one problem with his plan. Despite having asked the orchestra to play the sappiest, most romantic song he knows, you and Clavis are dancing close….and nothing else. Other couples have their foreheads pressed together, hands wandering into territory that is scandalous-adjacent. Some have even stopped dancing on the shadowy edges of the floor, kissing discreetly. But not you two. You’re still dancing an appropriate distance apart and despite the naked yearning on your face, Clavis’s golden eyes are not on you but past you, as if he can’t bear to see what you are offering him.

“Idiota,” he mutters as he drains the rest of his drink. The dance comes to an end and the orchestra begins a livelier dance. You and Clavis move away from the  floor and only Silvio sees the way you’re blinking back tears.

Fine. If Clavis is too blind or too chickenshit to see whats right in front of him….he’ll fucking make it happen himself.

The wine cellar is remarkable. You’re still not entirely sure why Silvio scooped you and Clavis up from the ballroom and insisted you follow him to have a look at it. Surely it could have waited until tomorrow. But you don’t argue with the newly-crowned king and so you follow Silvio out of the luxurious ballroom and down several marbled hallways and a winding set of stone stairs. A gorgeously carved wooden door depicting vineyards and grapes leads to another, shorter set of steps and then you are inside.

Silvio lights several of the wall sconces and you are greeted by a white room with vaulted ceilings and dark wooden barrels bigger than you and Clavis put together. The walls are lined from top to bottom with bottled wine and one corner of the massive room has glass bottles of crystal-clear mountain water taken from the very peaks of the Achroite mountains. It is dizzyingly impressive and Silvio is actually quite knowledgeable and charming as he guides you and Clavis further back into the massive cellar.

You turn your attention away from the sheer magnitude of it all and back to what he is saying.

“.....but you ain’t gonna believe me until you try it. Just stay here. I know where we keep the good stuff.”

Clavis gestures with his white-gloved hand. “That none of this is “the good stuff” is truly surprising. You have wine from every country I know and then some.” You’re certain Clavis knows every single country but he is a master of flattery, playing down his razor-sharp intelligence when he knows it is a singularly good choice.

Silvio grins slowly, his teeth white as a wolf’s. “Just you wait.” He jangles as he walks back towards the entrance, a sound that echoes throughout the cellar. Despite the light of the scones, there is a chill that lingers here and no windows at all. A shiver suddenly runs through you, sending a scattering of goosebumps across your arms. Why do you have such a bad feeling about this?

As if in answer, the cellar booms with the closing of the door. 

Wait….what? 

You and Clavis exchange a look before he takes off on long legs, hurrying in the direction Silvio went. By the time you catch up, he’s already at the beautiful wooden door. The beautiful, locked wooden door.

“No……” Something akin to panic squeezes your heart and you find yourself drawing in a deep, unsteady breath. “He didn’t…..”

Clavis doesn’t look dismayed. In fact, his handsome features are bright with an expression of absolute delight.

“I would seem he did, the jangler. The question is why. What a curious action to take.” 

“How are you so calm?” Dismay has you looking around the cellar, hoping for some miraculous other stairway to appear or maybe a trap door that would lead to a tunnel to get you out of here. 

Clavis shoots you a grin, one that would normally send your heart racing if it wasn’t already dizzy with the first fumes of panic. He reaches into the pocket of his soft lavender coat and pulls out a small velvet pouch which he deftly unrolls with the snap of his wrist. Inside are several long, pointy metal objects. 

“Because I am never unprepared. So calm your rabbit heart and watch as I save the day and pick our way out of here.”

“It seems we are at an impasse.”

Speaking more to himself than you, Clavis sinks down onto the top step. Gone is the confident gleam in his eyes. Instead he’s frowning down at his lockpicking set like it has failed him. How could Silvio of all people have a lock in this ostentatious mess of a palace that Clavis Lelouch can’t crack?

He inhales, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him that he has failed, that he’s disappointing you. But it’s so very loud, filling his mind until it’s all he can hear. 

Failure. Failure. Failure.

It’s so loud in fact that you have to call his name several times, each time increasingly louder, until he jerks his head up.

“Clavis, come here!!”

He pushes himself off the steps, following the sound of your voice past the glass bottles of wine winking at him in the firelight of the sconces to a narrow doorway at the very back of the cellar. Stepping inside he finds himself inside a small room with a simple bed in the center, a humble wooden nightstand and a single candle which you have lit using the tinderbox and wooden splint that were in the nightstand drawer. You’ve also stolen a bottle of mountain spring water. Clever.

“At least we don’t have to huddle on the ground for the night.”

The intimacy of the room feels overwhelming, like a cloud of gray fog rolling through his mind. He couldn’t….you would be so very close, one slight movement and you might touch. Yes, you touch all the time, yes he held you close dancing but it is exactly the memory of what he felt then, the electric almost frantic desire to pull you bodily against him and taste the sweetness of your smile that has him forcing a casual shrug and a smile bereft of its natural sunshine.

“You can sleep here. I’ll stay awake. Play your trusty guard until one of these Benitoites opens the door again.”

He’s stayed awake through the night before. In fact, sleepless nights are no stranger to him. He’s felt the sharp rake of their fingernails across his forehead, felt their claws scrape against his ribcage and send his lungs shrinking in fear. Insomnia chose him as a constant companion after the death of his mother, when the nights became endless, every shadow a predator, smelling the blood of a broken heart and stalking him for one final kill.

“No.” You surprise him with the conviction in your voice, the frown on your face. “I mean…..I would….I would be grateful if you were here, close to me. If…if that’s ok.” 

The truth is you’ve never been a fan of the dark, especially this dark. The dark, cold places deep within the earth. They remind you too much of graves, of death, of eternal night. Clavis, with his golden eyes and quick smile, is light and one glance at the candle on the nightstand tells you that soon, he may be the only thing left to keep you feeling calm and safe.

He hears it in your voice. The wavering undercurrent of fear that flows through your words. 

“Of course, if that’s what you require, my dear.”

You slide your feet out of your shoes and sit on the edge of the bed. Carefully you undo your earrings, beautiful but heavy jewels the color of wisteria, setting them on the nightstand before laying back and settling yourself on the bed. You’re grateful you wore a gown more in the Benitoite-style, a softer, looser style of dress that allows you freedom of movement that the stiff, corseted ballgowns of Rhodolite would not. 

Clavis waits until you roll onto your side and close your eyes before he undoes his lavender jacket, leaving him in his white dress shirt and pants. He sits on the opposite side of the bed, undoing his own shiny leather boots. What now? Your back is to him, exposed by the halter-style fastening of your dress. His gaze traces the lines of muscle and bone, the lay of the fabric along the curve of your hip. He blinks, then clumsily reaches for the bottle of mountain water like a man parched and removes the stopper, drinking deeply. It’s so chilled he feels it slide down his throat, down through his sternum where he hopes the cold will extinguish the heat you have unwittingly caused. He closes his eyes and takes several long sips. There. Yes, it should be just fine now. Why he's positively frosty. He carefully sets the glass bottle on the nightstand and then lays down next to you, on his back. 

Eyes wide open.

The small room is illuminated only by the faint orange of the single candle and the slowly encroaching darkness only works to heighten his other senses. He can hear your breathing, smell the scent of your rosewater perfume. The thin blanket under his hands is rough and scratchy, the pillow too soft to be entirely comfortable. He blames these things for his wakefulness, but in the shadows of his heart he knows the truth: he could be asleep in his own luxurious bed in the palace, with soft moonlight filtering in through the arched windows, with the sounds of silver-stringed crickets and gently hooting owls punctuating the night….and even then, if you were near, he would never fall sleep. Your presence is too bright, blinding even. His skin is electric with awareness. Every breath you take is thunder in his ears and when you suddenly speak, breaking the room’s cloud of silence, it feels like an earthquake shaking his bones, unsettling the blood in his veins.

“It’s getting cold.”

He hadn’t noticed, not with his whole being focused on your proximity to him. But now he feels it too. As the hours of the night deepen, the cellar has grown chilly, cold dancing along the exposed skin of his neck and face. 

“Here,” he murmurs as he pushes himself up. “You can have the blanket and-”

“Clavis.”

Your voice is small, subdued. And something in it brings all of his nervous motion to a halt.

“I’m sure you’re cold too so…..would it be ok if you put your arm around me? We could press together. For warmth.”

His heart feels like it might just beat itself right out of his chest. His breath sticks in his lungs like tar. Somehow, he manages to answer.

“Dearie me, but you're full of clever ideas tonight.” But the words are air, lacking his usual warmth and vigor and effervescence.  Anxiety is crawling through his veins, a familiar prowler. He swallows hard at the lump its forming in his throat.

He turns, his body mirroring yours and lifts his arm. And then you are there, curled against him, pulling his arm down around your middle. He forms a protective shield behind you and the feel of him so close sends an exhale of relief past your lips. The growing darkness no longer feels quite so menacing. The little flame’s slow descent of the wick is not quite so ominous. Clavis feels like the sweetest safety, the most beautiful armor against your fears.

“Thank you,” you sigh as your eyes close. 

His breath is warm against your hair when he answers, his voice as frail as spider-silk. “You’re welcome, my dear. Now sleep, if you can. I’m here.”

Your eyes blink open slowly. You can feel your eyelids moving, feel the strain as you try to clear away the blurry streaks of sleep still muddying your mind. But all you see is darkness, a black so heavy it feels like it is pressing down on you, a foot to your chest, a burly hand over your eyes.  Panic slowly uncurls throughout your body, hot and stinging like venomous tentacles.  

You bolt upright, throwing off Clavis’s arm which is loose in slumber, and rub at your eyes again, looking frantically around the pitch-black room for any source of light that might combat the heavy blanket of darkness. 

“Wha…..?” His voice is thick with sleep, but the uneven, staccato sound of your breathing is a waterfall of ice water through his system. Without hesitation, he reaches out, stumbling through the dark until he’s found your hand.

“It’s ok…..I’m right here. Close your eyes again.” He speaks evenly, voice calm as still waters, holding your hand firmly but gently. You do as he asks, closing your eyes and your body turns towards him automatically, your free hand reaching for him. He catches it and with exquisite tenderness guides you towards him, pulling you into the circle of his arms. You press your forehead against his shoulder, eyes squeezed closed. His scent surrounds you, the soothing calm of lavender, and you stay there, still as stone, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, unconsciously matching it with your own until the panic unhooks itself from your mind, dragging itself back to the mire from which it came.

He’s been talking to you the whole time, one hand reassuringly rubbing the spot between your shoulders, his touch warm against your skin. The dark has never been his friend. How many nights did he fill its dark corners with cries, and then small whimpers, begging for it to bring back his mother. To bring him someone who loves him. How many lonely nights has he endured without a kind touch, a comforting voice. Holding you is the very least he can do to ease your dismay, to keep the dark from drowning someone else in its flood.

Keeping your eyes closed helps. This way it feels like the darkness is a choice you’re making and not something you have to endure. Your breathing slowly evens out and awareness of how close you are now dawns. You are pressed against him, your arms tucked between your bodies, your cheek resting on the soft linen of his shirt. You should move away, but your body refuses, drawn to the sanctuary of his embrace like a magnet. And with the way his hand is pressed against your back, the other resting on your waist, it doesn’t feel as if he is in any hurry to let go.

“Clavis?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with so many different emotions spiraling through his mind, tightening his throat.

The darkness scares you. But it also frees you to speak the question that has been lingering like a specter in your mind since the dance.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

You’re so close to him you feel his sharp inhale. Part of you wishes you could look into his eyes, the gilded brightness of them, and search for truth. After all, Clavis is the king of spun-gold answers, beautiful but insubstantial as rainbows after the rain. He can side-step a direct reply like a fencer parrying an opponent’s blow. But now, when he speaks, his voice so close to your ear, there is a hushed truth twined around his words.

“I would never presume that someone like you would want to be that kind of close with someone like me.”

Quiet words, but they hit you like an earthquake. You shift in his arms, using your fingertips to find his shoulder, grasping it. 

“Someone like you? You mean someone compassionate and kind and caring? Someone who puts everyone else first?”

His silence is more telling than any words and you feel when he turns his head away from you and the truth which has left your lips on trembling wings of faith. You slide your hand up until you have the side of his face cupped in your palm and you turn him back in your direction.

“You, sir, may presume that someone like me wants to kiss someone like you. Because I do. Very much.”

It takes a second, several in fact, where your own heartbeat thunders in your ears, before he moves, turning his face into your palm and pressing a kiss there, a delicate, hesitant touch of his lips to your skin that sends your heart into a slow spin. And then you both shift in the total darkness, reaching for each other.

You bump foreheads. 

And then you both laugh, a sound gentle yet bright, a beautiful entanglement of his laughter and yours.

Your name is the last thing he says before your lips meet and your heart spins off the precipice and into the unknown, into the darkness as you kiss. He is achingly gentle, one hand coming up to trace the line of your shoulder and slide up until he is holding the back of your head, a steadying force in the midst of this new, spring-green connection between you. Your fingers grip his upper arm as you sink into the pleasure of simply kissing him. His touch is tender and with every movement of his lips, you feel affection and admiration and attraction blossoming. Each kiss is a blossom of trust. He’s handing you his heart, bruised and battered as it is, and you in turn are promising to keep it safely locked within your own, cherishing it above all other things.

Every kiss lingers just a little longer then the last until in unison you break apart. And this time when your foreheads touch it, it is intentional. 

“Sleep again, my dear,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

And so you settle back into the safety of his arms. At first you were only eager for morning because it meant getting out of this place. But now you believe morning will have so much more to offer.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @princesspraya @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

[the12thnightproject]

(Sound up on vid)

Event: One Suitor, One Prompt, sponsored by @violettduchess

Suitor/Prompt: Clavis / Water

Clavis vs Emma, Yves, Rio, Licht, Keith; with an assist from Chevalier, as witnessed by Cyran

Title: The Rube Golderg Escalation

Logline: One prank leads to another... or... does it?

Genre: Chaos Fic

Warnings: There might be a pun

Word Count: ~3000

Precisely at midnight, in a room fortified by three different fail-safe traps, Clavis instantly falls asleep. The moment he face-plants on his desk, the top of his head knocks over the first domino in a line of tiles that snakes across the room. This sets in motion a chain reaction as the dominos topple one by one, until the final tile nudges a marble, which rolls down a ramp and plops into a basket attached to a pulley. The marble’s weight causes the basket to descend and a platform to rise. At the top of the climb, the platform flips a lever, and a dagger pops up to slice a string, releasing a mallet that swings down and knocks over a jar full of tiny silver balls.

The balls whoosh to the floor and rebound in a symphonic clatter.

At the noise, Clavis wakes up and leaps to his feet.

He looks around… checks his traps…

Then he corrals the balls, resets every stage of his device, and settles back at his desk again, determined to stay awake.

At 12:48 a.m., Clavis’s head droops, and as he falls into slumber, he again face-plants on his desk-–

We’re going to pause here, for this scenario will repeat another five and a half times, until 5:29 a.m. The five hours until that moment will be far less interesting than the hours that drove us to this point.

So, let us go back in time a bit…

“Haha, I know you have fallen in love with me. Even though you first set eyes upon me only moments ago, you now are so truly madly deeply attached to my person, that you’ve dropped your plans to conspire against me, your one true love.”

Further back.

“Do you want a cupcake?”

Keep going.

“You want me to instruct you on how to achieve revenge on Clavis.”

Not quite there yet… keep going.

“Congratulations. You have a son.”

That’s … too far.

Two days ago, just after ten in the morning, Yves and Licht fell prey to a pit trap. This in itself was not an out of the ordinary occurrence, as sometimes it seemed that Yves and Licht only existed for the sole purpose of falling into these traps. In fact, they had blundered into so many traps that Clavis had been forced to invent new and exciting ways to make them even more fun for his brothers, to ensure that they did not become bored with the whole enterprise.

Therefore, this particular Thursday morning, the trap had been filled with water, and –

[Right. It has been pointed out to this correspondent that “filled with water” is an inaccurate description. There was indeed water in the trap, water that Clavis himself had poured into the trap, but only to a depth of about two feet. There was not enough water to drown anyone hapless enough to fall into Clavis’ trap. Moving on.]

Where were we? Right. Pit trap… water… Yves and Licht.

Splash!

Sploosh!

Squish.

Casualties of the trap included Licht’s boots and Yves’ entire outfit, for he, unfortunately slid down the muddy sides of the pit and landed inelegantly on his otherwise elegant rear.

Normally, that would have been the end* of it, but when the muddy victims made their way back to the castle, they encountered Emma, Rio and Keith, who were out for a morning stroll among the roses.

Yves’s condition elicited immediate sympathy from Emma. Meanwhile Rio vowed that should Emma become a pit trap victim, Clavis would need to travel past the islands of Kogyoku to escape his wrath. But it was an uncharacteristic suggestion from Keith, offered in an uncharacteristic tone of voice, that toppled the first domino. “Perhaps you should get even with him. Teach him what it’s like to be the object of a prank.”

Yves paused to wring out his cravat before answering. The sight of the muddy water dripping onto the ground caused him to flinch, and Emma was tempted to hug him. However when he finally spoke, it was to shoot down the idea. “I have more important things to do than to get involved in a war of pranks.”

Then he squish-marched his way into the castle without another word.

Things might have ended there, were it not for the unlikely assistance of Chevalier, who nudged the marble forward.

(Yes. Chevalier. Really.)

His advice was quite possibly unintentional. After all, the petty pranks of his younger siblings had nothing to do with him, and there was no incentive for him to step in and help…

“You’re blocking the light, Simpleton. Also. No.” Chevalier did not look up from his book, even though Emma had been patiently waiting for him to speak to her. The eventual acknowledgement wasn’t especially flattering, but she was interrupting his reading time, which probably accounted for his mood.

[Ed. Note: No it didn’t.]

“You don’t even know what I was about to –“

“You want me to instruct you on how to achieve revenge on Clavis.” Chevalier set the book in his lap, the open pages signaling that he expected this to be too short a discussion to bother shutting it, too short even to keep his finger in to mark his place. Not that he would have done so anyway**. “It’s not worth my breath. Besides, a man who expects an attack will never let down his guard enough to be surprised.” He picked up the book again, a clear signal that the conversation was over and Emma had again become invisible to him.

“Expects an attack…” Though Emma had spoken aloud, Chevalier did not react. There had been a considering tone to her voice, as if an idea had occurred to her. It was only after she left his private library that Chevalier looked up, with half of his mouth quirked up in a tiny smile.

Perhaps the idea of a private Chevalier smile is artistic license. This correspondent will leave that decision up to the reader.

The following morning, a strategy session took place in the secondary kitchen. Though Yves had professed disinterest in revenge, he had been lured to the meeting with the promise of a recipe from Jade that Keith swore was an heirloom from his Grandmother’s kitchen. And since he was already there, he supposed he could hear Emma out…

“… what is so perfect about this idea is that we actually don’t have to do anything.” Emma went on to detail her idea. “If we set it up correctly, the prank will just work on its own.”

It was simple.

It was deceptive.

It was devious.

It was a surprise that this devious plan had come from Emma.

“You’ve been working too hard with the Bossman.” Rio examined her for signs of nervous exhaustion.

Emma decided it would be a bad idea to mention that the impetus of this plot had come from Chevalier.

Even after they all agreed that the scheme was really quite workable, they might not have ever come up with the nerve to deploy it. That was when fate stepped in, kicking that marble down the ramp.

“Dearie me, you’re having a secret breakfast meeting without me.” Clavis put his hand to his heart. “I can only think that you must be putting together a surprise for my birthday. Let me guess – we’re going to have full day to fete me? A Celebration of Clavis, as it were? Or… Carnival of Clavis! I am touched.”

At his words, the five co-conspirators immediately displayed the shamed faces that only people unused to subterfuge can do. Emma blushed. Yves cleared his throat and fiddled with his earring. Keith stuck his hand in his coat and stared at the wall. Rio looked up at the ceiling. Licht looked down at the floor.

A more guilty looking party you couldn’t find outside of a political convention.

Instantly alerted by their reactions, Clavis gazed at this gallery of rogues. “I sense a plot is in the works.”

“Eep.” Emma could only squeak.

“Nothing.” Licht’s denial was mumbled at sub-audible volume***.

“My mistress would never dream of such a thing.” Rio turned and winked at Emma.

Casually… perhaps too casually at this point – Clavis stole a pastry from the tray and popped it in his mouth. Only after swallowing it during a silence as uncomfortable as a lukewarm bath in winter did he speak. “If I were a suspicious type, one who did not believe his family loved him, I might think you all were planning a dastardly trick on me.” He added a disbelieving laugh at the end, and waited for them to deny things.

A chorus of not terribly convincing “Of course nots,” arose, after which the original members of the tea plotting party suddenly recalled that they all had tasks that immediately needed accomplished, and made their escape.

Only the dregs of their breakfast remained, and Clavis was left gazing at the space where they had been. They truly were up to something. A game… a plot… a… revenge?

Maybe… maybe filling the pit trap with water had been a bad idea?

Hm.

He resolved to be on his guard for signs of surprise attacks. Not that they could possibly come up with a revenge that rivalled his own pit traps and other experiments.

The marble had fallen into the basket, and the platform was on the ascent.

Upon exiting the kitchen, Clavis noticed Emma had paused to talk to Cyran. When Emma glanced over her shoulder and spotted Clavis, she bit her lip and scurried away.

“You too?” Clavis’s words weren’t loud enough to reach Cyran’s ears, but he had already seen Clavis peering out of the kitchen, so he greeted the Prince accordingly.

“Good morning sir.” Taking in the remains of the conspirator’s food, he added, “Did you make breakfast for Emma then?” This was said in the guarded tones of a man who has eaten Clavis’s cooking and barely lived to tell the tale.

Ignoring the question, Clavis gestured to where Emma and Cyran had been talking. “Did she try to recruit you to the cause?”

“What cause?” Cyran said outwardly. Now what? (He said inwardly).

“Dear me, there are multiple causes. I knew it. For they will need to attack on simultaneous fronts in order to best me.” All five of them were independently working on plots against him. “Thank you for confirming the existence of those dastardly plans.”

Cyran sighed. “I said what cause, not which cause.”

“Ah ha!”

“Ah ha?”

“Ah ha ha ha.” And with that, Clavis strode off, leaving a truly confused Cyran in his wake.

A short while later, Clavis discovered Emma furtively creeping out of Sariel’s office. She held something shiny in her hand that she tried to hide when she spotted him. “We meet again, my love!” He bowed over her hand, inspecting the object. It was a key. Flashing her a dazzling smile, he said, “Hahaha. Sariel gave you a key? It won’t open the door to my room, so if you plan to wait for me there on a bed of roses, it is all for naught.”

“What? No!” Emma blushed and thrust the key behind her back. “It’s for the hidden gazebo in the garden.” Her face still bright red, Emma edged away from him, then zipped down the hallway.

Once she was out of sight, a frown crossed his face. Had Sariel managed to make a key that would unlock his room? Clavis had designed that lock to be impossible to break… but just to be safe, it would be a good idea to increase the protections in his room.

As a precaution.

And thus… the dagger sliced through the string, and the mallet swooped down, releasing over the course of the day, a series of suspicious incidents, conversations and near misses that bounce through his mind like tiny silver balls…

Item One – a serving tray full of Yves’s freshly baked pastry. Just before Clavis could take a lavender-bergamot flavored cupcake, Rio rotated the tray. Had this been a suggestion he wanted Clavis to take the cake now closest to his hand? Or maybe a diversion that was aimed to ensure he took the purple frosted one he had originally been aiming for? In the end, Clavis decided he was safest depriving himself of the treat altogether, and went without tea.

Item Two – Emma and Keith (and perpetual tag-along Rio) invited him on an excursion to that previously mentioned secret gazebo. But… were they nudging him down a specific path? Clavis could not see any evidence of a newly dug trap… but danger didn’t only lurk below. He eyed the line of hedges, looking for a suspended net or hanging bucket… and in the process, stubbed his toe on an unevenly placed stone on the path. Giving up on the trek, he returned to the main garden, and perched upon a warm sunny bench in an open area where he would be able to see if anyone approached. A slight sunburn was his reward – but at least no one attacked him and no net landed upon him.

Item Three – At a party that night arranged for a delegation of visiting nobles from outside the capital area, Clavis took note of a lovely, long-legged lady who eyed him with overt appreciation. Ah… another instance of love at first sight. He would permit her to lay her heart at his feet. However, before Clavis could reach her side, the lady was temporarily waylaid by Emma and Yves. He was too far away to hear their conversation, but … what if this unknown lady had been hired as part of their revenge prank?

Alas, for Clavis, the woman was completely innocent of any conspiracy, and his less-than-subtle questioning of her only resulted in a –

Slap!

At this point, Clavis called for a tactical retreat, barricaded himself in his room, and set up a complicated alarm to help keep him awake past midnight, in order to ensure he could instantly repel a pre-dawn revenge raid.

This brings us to 5:27 a.m…

Clavis has once again fallen asleep at his desk. Regrettably, in his exhaustion, he neglected to correctly reset his ‘Clavis Personal Sleep Interrupter™’ and the dominos ceased falling mid-stream. The marble stayed at the top of the ramp. The dagger never cut the string to release the mallet. There was no cascade of silver balls across the floor.

Instead, at 5:28 a.m. there is a crash, followed by a yelp of pain outside his room, caused by one of the maids colliding with a castle footman and dropping her dust pan... on the footman’s foot****.

Awakened and alarmed by the noise, Clave jumps to his feet, grabs a weapon, and runs to his door, determined to confront an invasion. Given his mostly sleepless night, it should not come as a surprise that he forgot his own booby traps. Therefore, when he throws open the door, there is a BOOM as an explosion of pink dust fills the room. This is followed by a sploosh when a bucket of honey (stolen from Luke who will not be happy when he realizes it is gone) falls on his head. Then finally a floof, when the honey-blinded Clavis trips over a rope and falls into mini-pit full of feathers.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

(The Maid, upon seeing the pink honey and feather colored beast emerging from Clavis’s room).

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

(The Footman, deeper voice, same cause).

At 9:42 a.m. a freshly cleaned, de-honeyed, de-pinked, de-feathered (except for one tiny feather stuck to the side of his head), very tired, sunburned and slightly feverish Clavis finds and confronts the gang of five, who are, this time, enjoying breakfast in the rose garden. “What a sorry looking cabal of conspirators.” Five “innocent” looking faces greet this statement. “You’re planning a revenge prank are you not? Ah hahaha. Have I not proved that I am equal to anything you might throw at me?”

As he spoke, that one tiny feather finally loosed itself and drifts harmlessly to the ground.

After a moment of silence for the kamikaze feather, Emma, who has somehow been elected speaker, shakes her head. “Prince Clavis, no one here is planning a prank on you.”

One eyebrow rises in disbelief.

“It might be more honest to say that instead… we convinced you that we were going to prank you… and…” She waves her hand in the air. “Then you pranked yourself.”

There is a long moment of silence while Clavis ponders the ramifications of that.

Longer…

“Ah hahahah haha” Clavis throws back his head and laughs into the sky. “I knew it! You all love me! Nothing else could have motivated such a brilliant plot. Emma… Rio… Keith… and my beloved brothers… I’m overjoyed.” Indeed, it does appear that Clavis is shaking with excitement. “Only people who adore me and respect my genius could have realized what was truly necessary to trick me. Because of course, the only person who can successfully prank me is,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “Me! How deliciously intriguing.”

The conspirator’s momentary relief that he appears to be taking this so well, changes to worry at Clavis’s next announcement.  “I cannot wait to show you all how much I love you in return.”

(The end.... or is it...?)

*Pun intended

** Not that would Chevalier ever stoop to leaving his finger in a book, turning it upside down or commit the heinous crime of folding down the corner of a page. He has no need to as he always remembers his exact place.

***More sub-audible than usual

**** Though this uproar is incredibly well timed and placed, it is actually just an unfortunate coincidence. Emma, Rio, Yves, Licht, Keith and Keith were all asleep in their respective beds when this occurred and had nothing to do with the maid/footman collision. Sometimes an act of fate is simply that.

Thank you @violettduchess for a lovely event that forced me way way beyond my Sengoku comfort zone.

Also thanks to Lorei helping to ensure this isn't egregiously OOC.

[syneilesis]

[fic] Where Does Such Tenderness Come From

Where Does Such Tenderness Come From

Ikemen Prince | Clavis Lelouch x f!Reader | G | 6.7k words ao3 link

In another universe, you were Belle, and you fell in love with a prince. And nothing came of it.

A/N: For @violettduchess's One Suitor, One Prompt event! This is a canon alternate universe where Emma had never been Belle and it's reader-chan who became one. It's understandably canon divergence, and everything is slightly nicer in this AU.

I did not expect this fic to be long! It's my first time writing him as the central character in a serious (?) fic, so I don't know if I got him right (it's AU anyway >.>). I've proofread this twice, so any mistakes and inconsistencies that survived is still my fault lol.

Title is from a Marina Tsvetaeva poem. Hope you enjoy! :)

prologue 

Sariel observes you as you lay out your arguments for your choice as the next king. He makes no reaction to anything you say—a veritable politician in your eyes. When you finish, he hums, and nods to himself, a small smile creeping in.

“Excellent,” he says, “I knew that I did not make a mistake in choosing you as Belle.”

“I did my best,” you demur.

Outside the chamber, the halls are empty except next to the door, where Prince Chevalier is leaning against the wall, head in repose. He opens his eyes upon your appearance, his gaze cutting in its severity.

He says: “It is done.”

“Yes. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Hmph.” He moves to enter the chamber—most likely to speak with Sariel—but as he passes you, he adds: “Do not forget that you’re indebted to me. I will collect it soon.”

A smile finds its way to your face, the muscles of your cheeks heavy with amusement and apprehension in equal measure. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The title is ignored and he strides away, leaving you alone in the hallway, leading to where your old life awaits you.

You take the first step, then another—and another—and another. To your right, the tall windows glow with the morning shimmer of the palace gardens. And then you think to yourself, you’re going to miss the palace, Sariel, and even the princes. Especially—

No. That’s a dangerous thought. You suppose it’s all for the best. It’s impossible from the beginning anyway.

1.

King Chevalier tells him one day: “A newly formed group of merchants near the Rhodolite-Benitoite border has been engaging in potentially treasonous activities. Investigate it.”

Words of challenge sear his tongue, but Clavis swallows them down like all other instances in the past, opting to plaster an obnoxious grin on his face, teeth almost grinding against each other.

“Oh? And where did you get that information? Surely that little intelligence should have gone over to me before it could reach you. Your dear little fool of a brother no longer trustworthy? How shocking.” The last two sentences are punctuated with the unpleasant grit of sarcasm, but Clavis makes sure that his sentiment is known.

Of course, Chevalier swats the jab away. “Don’t be absurd. Why do you think I’m sending you there?”

There’s an abrupt collapse of everything Clavis has put up in front of his elder brother, and for the first few seconds he just stands there, staring. Chevalier rolls his eyes as if the exchange pains him, as if Clavis is slow on the uptake, which starts him up again, filing this detail for later inspection. For now there are much more pressing matters.

“When will you send me away?” When Chevalier levels him a look due to his wording, Clavis just shrugs, the twitch on the corners of his lips noticeable.

“Tonight.”

“Eager to get rid of me?” Clavis laughs. Then he says, “Of course, of course, as you wish, Your Grumpy Majesty.”

He leaves the office without a glance behind, tamping down the desire for another bout of petty comeback.

◈

Towns situated near kingdom borders always adopt a mixture of its local culture and its neighboring one. The one Clavis visits, while still filled with gardens of the nation’s trademark roses, has the colors and splendor of Benitoite. Because it's the kingdom known for its trade and soft power, budding merchants gather in towns like these to try their luck at trade, and the goods they acquire become part of the local scene. Clavis reminds himself to peruse the current supply of medical ingredients later.

A few minutes’ walk outside the town lies a mansion, considered as one of the sites for social gathering and negotiation of goods. Years ago, a wealthy merchant retired to the then-abandoned mansion and opened its doors for anything market-related. Since then, it has also been used as temporary residence for traveling merchants and trade diplomats.

Clavis is dressed more modestly than usual, but continues to be recognizable to those who know of him. Cyran trails after him at a distance, slower in pace and more alert in observation. Today is reconnaissance—the need for action remains to be seen, but Clavis insists on bringing his sword as both precaution and identification.

As the mansion entrance becomes sharper with proximity, the doors burst open and out comes the person Clavis least expects to see here and now and in the foreseeable future.

You freeze mid-step, eyes bulging in shock at seeing Clavis. Needless to say, the feeling is mutual.

“You—” a storm passes your face, before you remember who you’re talking to “—r Highness.”

It takes him longer to say something, but the glee that lights up inside him makes up for it. “Dear dear dear oh dear, what have we here?”

Underneath the glee: something tender, a twist in his chest that refuses to leave, however dull, beating in sync with his heart.

interlude

Just a few more days left before you decide on a new king. You had a vague idea of who you'd pick; you just needed a last-minute interaction to cement your decision. This was one of the things that you took pride in. At first, hearing Sariel's pronouncement that you'd become the next Belle had been such a surreal experience that you weren't sure if you were just being pranked by your mischievous neighbors. But now, with your notes and your newfound knowledge and the friendships that you'd made during your time in the palace, you're certain that you were going to finish your tenure with ironclad conviction.

You entered your room, humming to yourself. And that humming escalated into a shriek when you found Clavis perched on your bed, his troublemaker smile present.

“Good evening, my lovely partner-in-crime.”

“Not a good evening—you almost gave me a heart attack!”

Clavis laughed—that eventually petered off to nothing. You sensed the shift in mood, and you followed, closing the distance and sitting next to him.

“Did something happen?”

An upward tug of his lips. “What did you think happened?”

“I don't know—you tell me.”

“Oh, my dear partner-in-crime,” he said, singsong, “is that worry I hear in your tone?”

Normally you'd deny it. Perhaps it's because of the approaching day of your decision—it made you feel sentimental and a little more honest—that you told him, “Yeah—actually, yes. I am worried.”

It was worth it for his surprised blink.

You grabbed the opportunity to tease. “What—you're gonna miss me after all this?”

He didn't answer right away, his wide-eyed expression prolonged in the pulsing quietness of the room. Then he recovered, and said with frankness, “You know it, don't you.”

“I'm sorry?”

He shuffled, the rustle of the blankets loud, until his body faced towards you completely. “There's something between us, you can feel it. I can certainly feel it. So why not act on it?” He leaned forward, closer; his scent strong from this lack of distance, and you could almost feel the puffs of his breath.

The sharpness of your inhale sliced through the ensuing silence.

He wasn’t wrong. The burgeoning feelings you harbored for him surfaced in your awareness on the day of your accidental kiss. Try as you might to crumple it into a ball and tuck it away behind you—out of sight, out of mind—things didn’t always end up how you planned for. Love was a tricky thing to maneuver, and it wasn't for long that you gave up denying it—at least to yourself—and cradled it to your bosom, regardless of whether he knew or not.

But accepting the feelings for yourself was vastly different from acting upon it and accepting the consequences.

And that was what you weren't ready to accept.

“Let's say you're right,” you began, slowly and carefully, “what then? What would happen if we acted on it?”

“Then we get what we both want.”

The inside of your mouth tasted bitter.

“What do we want?”

And in the space that followed, there was only the echoes of breath—and the glassy, shuttered countenance of a prince who was unable to answer a simple question.

“Oh, Clavis,” you whispered, leaning away. “I'm sorry, but I think it's better for us if we pretend this never happened.”

You expected a protest, a challenge, a sly taunt that would turn your decision around. But there was only a wistful gaze; lips parted halfway, an aborted response.

Only silence.

And that—that was something you were willing to accept.

2.

“Isn’t there something in the contract that says once I’m done with being Belle, I’d never see all of you again?”

You’re looking at Cyran but the question is aimed at him. You’re probably rigidly following the clauses of the Belle contract like an unquestioning soldier, but the desire to cup your face and turn it to his direction bubbles up inside Clavis.

He immediately stomps that part of him. You’ve made your thoughts clear to him before you went home, and a gentleman respects a lady’s wishes, no matter his personal feelings. But here, right now, the way the surroundings frame your form, the bag of tools hanging over your arm, a roll of fabric on the other …

It’s—well.

Beside him Cyran shifts, obviously uncomfortable despite trying to hide it.

“You know, my lady,” he starts. Glances surreptitiously at Clavis. “Did you know that the pri—”

Clavis cuts him off. “Clause 99 only applies to the chosen king. And you chose my dear, beloved older brother for that.” He feels his mouth stretch into a strange smile. “Having second thoughts?”

Finally, your gaze snaps to him. It tastes like victory.

“Of course not!” you say, tightening your hold on your things. “I’m proud of my choice and I don’t regret it. I trust King Chevalier to bring prosperity and security to our kingdom.”

And that victory decays into something ugly, spoiling his expression—the twitch of his cheek, the dip of his eyebrows. You must’ve noticed it, because something flashed in your own expression, like a trap activating. It calcifies your posture into stone.

Cyran feels the shift in the air, and he frantically salvages the mood. “In any case, Prince Clavis is here for a reason, but we didn’t expect you to be here as well. What are you doing here, my lady?”

And in a blink the caution is gone. Your face smoothens into that familiar, friendly shine. Clavis swallows the sourness that has pooled inside his mouth.

“Me?” you say, genuinely confused. “I’m here for work.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, in which Clavis and Cyran feel compelled to look at each other in surprise. But an idea sprouts inside Clavis’s scheming head, and the smile he adorns this time is wild and delighted. It doesn’t escape your notice, because you take a step back out of suspicion, having known him long enough to recognize the signs.

“No,” you say, unprompted. “No. No.”

“What are you talking about?” Clavis says, cheerful. “I didn’t ask anything.”

“I know that look. And my answer is no.”

He takes a step forward. “Even if I asked nicely?”

You take another step back. “No.”

Another step forward. “Even if I beg?”

The step falters. Clavis narrows his eyes like a predator gaining on prey. Almost there. “C-Clavis, no …”

Clavis. Another push. “Even if I tell you that the fate of Rhodolite rests upon this assignment, and that I need you for it?”

A complicated look descends on your face, and Clavis forgets to breathe, waiting for your response. He clocks in the moment you give in, and his hand twitches to touch your lips, tracing the shape of your words.

“All right … All right. What do I need to do?”

He doesn’t raise his hand, doesn’t touch you, your lips, but it overwhelms him like floodwater.

interlude

The books that Emma sent you were heavy on your arms, but you strived to carry them all the way to the library. This was important—a gamble, yes, but crucial to your bet with Nokto. The prince's cooperation was the key, and you're determined to win.

Suddenly, the books became lighter.

“How is my lovely partner-in-crime doing on this lovely day?”

“I am not your partner-in-crime,” you said. Clavis hovered, half of the books appearing on his arms. They seemed as light as feathers when he carried them.

“Oh?” he said in that way of his—a crescendo, like it was a challenge. “The way you hung over me last night, ardently pouring Sariel's liquor at the pond says otherwise.”

“I needed to get my message across to Sariel. Else he'd subject me to suffering again.”

Clavis laughed, as if your suffering was amusing. Then he studied the book cover. “Donating some books?”

“Not exactly,” you said, almost absent-minded. “I'm going to give it to Prince Chevalier. He mentioned before that he was interested in reading some foreign books on political economy, so I pulled some strings to acquire these. I don't know how he'd manage to read them if he wasn't fluent in—”

You stopped. The second set of footsteps were absent.

Several paces behind stood Clavis, unmoving, just watching you with an unreadable glint in his eyes.

“Prince Clavis?”

He tilted his head, his brows in knots. The line of his mouth pulled down in an angry moue.

“You're doing this for my brother?”

“Um, yes?”

He frowned as if he couldn't understand. “Why?”

“Um, because?” It wasn't like you could tell him of your bet with Nokto; that would invite rumors, unpleasant ones, and Clavis was already a troublemaker enough on his own. You didn't want to fend off another set of stressors. You'd just gotten the hang of entertaining this particular prince.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Then—you weren't sure—you heard a click of his tongue before Clavis was back to his usual troublemaking self. But somehow, his smirk seemed to curve askew.

“Well, then!” he said, loud and cheerful. “Let's visit my very intelligent brother together, shall we?”

3.

The merchants buy their story: the palace commissioned you to make uniforms a month before Rhodolite declared her new king. Palace Minister Sariel was so impressed by your work that some princes had noticed—one of whom was Prince Clavis, who consequently requested you to design him a coat.

“It’s displayed in my room, at a corner where I can easily see it and admire its details,” Clavis says with a fond smile, while you gawk at him like he’s weird. The important thing is that the merchants are lapping it up, eyes sparkling with the revelation that their decision to hire you was right, and the opportunity to sidle closer to a prince who’s directly connected to the king. This allows you to stay a few days longer in the town, work longer in the mansion with him as your current client—and that affords you to become his eyes and ears at the places he and Cyran can’t reach.

“I feel underqualified for this,” you tell him later, after the introductions and the meeting that proceeded next.

“Nonsense! You were splendid when you were Belle,” Clavis assures, and that may be a genuine sentiment, but the way it’s conveyed has you glaring at him. “Even now I am grateful that you thoughtfully offered yourself to personally deliver my gift to Chev.”

As expected: you pale at the memory. “I didn’t know you were trying to poison him! I didn’t know you suck at cooking! You weren’t there when I opened the cover and he saw what’s inside! I did not sleep for days!”

Clavis sniffs, and then brings a hand up to wipe away an imaginary tear. “So, so thoughtful.”

And then you pause in reminiscence. Whatever you remember, it has you dedicating your whole attention to him, and Clavis preens under it.

“You know, now that I think about it …” you begin, and the knowing tone you adopt warns Clavis into caution. “Prince Chevalier did eat your cooking …”

Clavis stumbles. “What?”

He must’ve heard wrong. Or you’re pulling his leg. There’s no way Chevalier would indulge him this way—crossing swords, yes, but others? That brother of his would rather march alone into a battlefield to face an army than cater to someone—anyone, at all.

“He took a bite of your dish, scowled, and tried to murder me with his eyes.”

But he doesn’t hear your words; he’s still arrested by the news that Chevalier did, indeed, eat his cooking. And you catch him frozen in shock, because your demeanor melts into something softer.

“Your Highness,” you say, “let’s prepare for step one of our plan, yes?”

Clavis knows what you’re doing, but right now, he has no other choice but to accept your offer of reprieve, so he says, “You’re very diligent for someone who complained earlier, aren’t you?”

You only smile in response.

interlude

Going to his room was always an exercise in courage; going inside, however, stupidity. But Clavis had overtaken you on the way to the library and handed you a tray of food, said, Breakfast for our dear Chevalier; he wanted to eat and our people are too busy to deliver the meal to him. Why don't you do the honor of bringing it to his room?

And now you're in front of his bedroom door, trembling hand poised to knock when it opened on its own and out came the man himself.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

Chevalier took one look at the tray you're holding and your nervous smile and he sighed, as if expecting something like this to happen. But he didn't say anything; just stepped to the side and—surprise, surprise!—let you in.

“Thank you so much.”

You placed the tray on a clean table and waited for him to sit. The silver cover reflected his skeptical face and you began to explain, partly to appease him, partly to fill the tense silence in the room.

“Right. I was told that you asked for breakfast and there was no one available to bring it to you, so Prince Clavis—”

“Hah.”

“—Prince Clavis asked me to do it. And here you are, Your Highness.” You reached for the handle to remove the cover. “Your breakfast. Please enjoy.”

The tense silence graduated into frigid after the reveal, and you squirmed at his icy expression. When you followed his gaze, you blanched.

“Oh my god.”

You should have known. You should have known. The fact that it was Clavis who asked you for that favor should have clued you in, but his smile was pretty at the time, especially when the sunlight that sneaked through the window hit his face in a way that highlighted his amused eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” you stammered, trying to salvage the situation. Chevalier was watching you now with murder in his eyes, and you almost dropped the metal cover. “I-I'll return this right away—pleasedon'tkillme.”

Your limbs locked when you heard him sigh, and a gloved hand reached for the spoon and in your head you chanted no no no but only watched, morbidly fascinated, when Chevalier took a spoonful and brought the abomination to his mouth.

Your jaw dropped.

As he chewed, Chevalier locked eyes with you—a taunt, a warning, a threat—and you gulped and tried your best to be one with the floor.

He swallowed the objectionable thing, which made him even more invincible in your eyes, and took the cover from you. Without breaking eye contact, he set the cover back on the plate and said, “Get out.”

You'd never followed an order so willingly in your life. “Yessir!”

4.

In the mansion’s backyard, there’s a large fountain that stopped working months ago. It’s huge enough that a couple of people can take a soak. While the mechanism for the pump is no longer usable, the caretaker still fills the reservoir with water, and during the afternoons when the sun is high up, the water sparkles gold, a cluster of shiny waves that steals the attention.

On the third day of his stay in the mansion, Clavis meets you by the fountain for a report. It’s a few hours before noon, clouds aloft beneath the vivid blue sky.

“Any progress?”

Your brows knit in thought. “I think so. I don’t know if this is helpful or just a false lead …”

“Let’s hear it anyway.”

As you relay your findings, Clavis glances back at the mansion. Even from where he stands, he can see a couple of silhouettes behind the second-storey windows. Merchants who still doubt his intentions, perhaps; who want to watch his every move.

Suddenly, a plan develops in his mind.

He takes a step forward. Another. And another. Until the tips of his shoes touch yours. You're watching him move closer and closer, this time not retreating, which gives him hope. He dips his head next to your ear, mindful of the witnesses inside the mansion, and whispers:

“Do you want to play a game?”

“No,” you whisper back, but the fraction-tilt of your head intimates that you understand his intention. In the corner of his vision, he sees you dart your gaze at the building. You're too quick for your own good.

“That's too bad; it's going to be a fun game.”

“Not when you're too close to me.”

Clavis immediately steps backward. Grins at you, while you only continue to observe him warily.

“You didn't have to move close.”

“But isn't that part of the fun? And besides, we are already playing the game right now.”

“Then why ask me if I wanted to play?”

“I always ask first, you know.”

“Not always.”

“Those that count, then.”

“Fine, I'll play the game,” you say, fixing your posture as if bracing yourself. As if Clavis is an opponent you're determined to win against—which is kind of cute. “Cyran did say something like pretending as part of the plan …”

“Cyran told you that?” He feels an eyebrow twitch. “Well, now, isn’t that unfair.”

“I already said I'll play. I'll do it, come on. I'm ready. I know they're watching right now. Give me your best shot.”

And Clavis laughs. The entire conversation, he didn't miss the fleeting way your gaze drops to his lips, as if remembering a memory that still lays vivid in his mind. It's almost a confirmation, but Clavis knows where you both stand with each other—except despite his want to stay behind the line that you drew for each other, the desire to cross that threshold lingers like an insistent tug.

He steps forward again. And again. And again until again the warmth of your body mingles with his own. His fingers hover on your temple, brush against a stray lock of your hair, insert it behind your ear. His eyes track yours, how they go from point to another point of his face—eyes to nose to cheeks to beauty mark to, finally, lips.

“I'm a gentleman,” he begins, and your gaze snaps back to his, “so I have to ask again: are you playing this game with me?”

It stretches—your gazes at each other. It stretches and lingers and sighs at the stillness of the moment. You swallow, a short-lived dilemma, and then nod, a small one that Clavis catches nonetheless.

“Then—” He angles his head in the most optimal way that their spectators in the mansion could see and brings his lips to yours.

It's just a press, soft and light—definitely longer than the first time your mouths brushed, once upon a time. His half-mast eyes drawing closed, missing the way yours flutter before shutting tight. But the way you press back is apparent, and Clavis knows, down to the marrow of his bones, that you want this too. That you've always wanted this—whatever this is between you. It doesn't matter how vehement and how often your denial is of your feelings; you always look back when you walk away.

He doesn't pry open your lips (that's for another time), but he does sigh at the feeling, the warm pressure that comes from your body almost touching his, the way your hands slowly and hesitantly come up to his chest and clutch at his lapels. His own hand tightens on the back of your head, the other settles on your waist.

It feels like a lifetime—an infinite thread between then and now—before you part, hands still clinging to where they are. You look at Clavis and a sigh escapes you; the nerves on his hands alight with something that could alter the rest of your stay.

“Clavis—”

He lets go of you and retreats, zooming onto the windows of the mansion. Figureless glass, closed curtains. They've seen what he wants them to see. It's up to Cyran to fan those flames further.

“They fell for it,” he says. When he returns to you, you're looking at him with a peculiar expression, and Clavis wants to kiss you again.

He doesn't. Instead he claps his hands, smirks, and says, “Now, we'll move on to the best part of the plan.”

interlude

It happened so quickly you wondered whether it happened at all.

You and Yves were in a heated discussion about pastries, with you extolling the sublime virtues of pouring chocolate over croissants and Yves arguing for more adventurous baking recipes, such as tea-flavored cake. You were both so involved in the conversation that you missed the very obvious pitfall trap in your path.

“And one other thing about this cake—”

Yves never got to make his point because his next step landed on nothing but air.

His scream pulled you back into alertness, and you would've fallen too, had it not been for a hand that grabbed your wrist and tugged you out of the way.

“What—” Your body was dragged into another body, and you whirled around—and your lips touched something like another set of lips—

—before you jerked yourself away, searching for the source.

Clavis stood in front of you, slightly in a daze.

But just as you were to call his name, Yves's voice startled you out of your next move.

“Prince Yves! Hang on, I'll get you out of there!”

When you turned back, Clavis was gone. It was an odd thing; you knew that he'd brag about his trap and laugh at your gullibility, but he prevented you from falling and in that sequence of events you accidentally kissed him.

It was so quick that you might have just imagined it. His reaction, however, was anything but.

5.

Turns out, Chevalier is right: half of the merchants who've gathered in the mansion throbbed with the desire to stage a rebellion. They'd been committed in recruiting people to their cause, convincing them that royalty should no longer hold the power and instead it's the merchants who should. In their hubris, they'd approached Clavis with the intention to pull him into their side, after seeing him kiss you by the fountain. With that image alone the merchants had concocted to themselves the elaborate story of a royal and a commoner falling in love and being unable to stay together because of the differences in status. They'd talked to Clavis, asked about you and his sentiments, complimented his affections, sweet-talked their way into his good graces—At this current state, it is an act looked down upon for a prince to marry a commoner girl, and we sympathize, we really do, so we wanted to change the tradition, we're in talks with Benitoite and Obsidian right now and—and thought to themselves that they'd truly caught a big fish in him.

When Chevalier strides into the path that leads to the mansion, a number of soldiers marching behind him, it's you who notices first. That dampens Clavis's mood somewhat, but he has momentarily forgotten that someone with a great sense of responsibility like you would not greet the king; rather, you retreat further into the mansion, backing yourself into an empty room on the third floor, waiting until the king finishes his business.

“Clause 99 is a downer, huh.” Clavis leans against the doorframe, watching you organize your luggage.

You don't glance at him when you answer, so you have no idea of the expressions that flit through Clavis's face as you speak. “I suppose. The king has become a good friend during the time I was Belle, and now I can no longer meet him again—it's sad.”

“Friend?” The word and its association with his brother sound like a ridiculous combination. “You're friends with Chevalier?”

You jerk and look up at him, surprised. “Yes? I'd like to think that we get along. Is that so hard to believe?”

“You're not ... in love with him?” Sometimes, he’s led to believe that he’s in a scandalous love triangle—your heart torn between a callous beast and a dashing, charismatic villain. It’s the kind of love story that will stir Rhodolitians for years.

You look indignant even at the suggestion. “Of course not! Where in the world did you get that idea?!”

“You were very close with him during that one month, you can't blame anyone for thinking that you two are involved.”

“I don't like him that way! God. I just supply him foreign books every now and then. I know somebody who works at a bookstore and who could get almost any kind of book.”

This is turning out to be a lovely story. “So you were bribing him.”

The look you give him is baleful. “Not bribe—just encouragement.”

He can't help it—Clavis laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs until you throw a sock at him. He catches it easily, and he laughs again.

“That's so cute,” he says, wiping tears off his eyes, “dear Chev getting bribes! Books! Of course.”

From where you sit, you grumble.

There's a lull in the moment where you study him, something bright in your eyes that compels him to repeat the words he said to you months ago, in that palace room that once housed you, your scattered notes and your cloths and your sewing tools spread across the bed. The words that slice him open and uproot the foundations of his self. In this lull of a moment, with your clear gaze and your soft expression, Clavis finds his courage once again, and he opens his mouth to say—

“Your Highness, the king has called for your presence.”

The moment passes.

Clavis swallows the words and directs his attention to Cyran, who’s boggled at the thick, tense air in the room. He decides to concentrate on Clavis, who is struck with the longing to send Cyran on a wild goose chase. But he doesn't give in to the urge.

“Goodness, the king doesn't like to wait, does he?” he says amicably, smiling at Cyran, who continues to grow confused. Clavis doesn't move from his place. “It's almost as if he wants to separate me and Belle like a villain in a tragic novel. I should be the villain, you know.”

“Prince Clavis?”

Clavis sighs theatrically.

Then your voice, quiet and decisive—and Clavis has a feeling about the words that will come out from your lips.

“Clavis. You should go.”

He stares at you, all dramatics gone.

“Should I?”

Your luggage has already been organized since a few minutes ago, but you pretend to arrange it still, just to have your hands occupied with something.

“Yes,” you say to your clothes, and it's silent after that. Once or twice: the sound of Cyran's boots tapping.

“Then this is goodbye.”

“Yes.”

One more time. One more time. He waits.

Nothing.

He's not surprised, but it's disappointing all the same.

“Goodbye, then.”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

He leaves the mansion without looking back.

◈

Chevalier orders Clavis to ride the carriage with him and give his report during the journey back to the palace. He follows with a fanfare that he's sure Chevalier will find annoying, but will just grit his teeth and bear the noise. Clavis injects all the ludicrous embellishments he can insert because he can, and because he knows Chevalier's already informed of the details, regardless of whether Clavis tells him the truth or not.

He tries a different tack.

“I do wonder how our former Belle found herself working in that mansion, though.” He observes his brother for any infinitesimal reaction, and all he gets is a set of closed eyes opening, an unimpressed glare beneath those eyelids.

Clavis has a feeling that Chevalier was involved in that little surprise, but he doesn't know how and why.

“The little cub has a debt, and she has finally paid her dues.”

His hands curl into fists. And he stomps the treasonous desire to unsheathe his sword and point it at the king.

“And what debt is that?”

“None of your concern,” Chevalier replies breezily, unperturbed about the growing animosity that crackles in the air.

“Really, dear brother? How cruel of you.” He lets out a frustrated exhale. “That's nothing new, though.”

Chevalier only snorts at that and nothing else.

When they reach the palace, the soldiers line up to greet the arrival of the king, and Clavis spies Sariel emerge from the main doors, his tongue clicking in reflex. Chevalier doesn't wait for Clavis and goes straight to the palace minister presumably to talk about the recent arrests. He's about to sneak out when Sariel's greeting catches him.

“Welcome back, hellcat,” Sariel says, his tone ambiguous enough to interpret his words as disappointed.

Clavis gives him his most infuriating grin. “Missed me?”

“We'll continue this at my office,” Chevalier cuts in, already heading inside, his cloak whipping in time with his movement.

“Well?” Clavis says later, when he and Chevalier are back in the office, with the familiar documents and books and pens. The smell of ink and paper permeate the whole room. 

Chevalier doesn't let him breathe before saying, “I'm assigning you to root out any potential rebels here.” He points to the capital city on the map.

Clavis almost throws the documents he's holding in Chevalier's direction.

“Care to elaborate?”

Behind the king, sunlight filters through the windows. It's late afternoon, so the shade of light has warmer and richer hues that paint Chevalier's silhouette into something more welcoming. Kinder.

Clavis almost gags.

“Merchants are not the only ones to harbor such thoughts about royalty. We constantly monitor the activities of nobles, but hidden among the common people are spies that could spread provocative notions. Just because we're stable at present does not mean that Obsidian will let things as they are.”

A point that he grudgingly accepts, but the question still remains:

“Is this my punishment for all the times I put spikes on your bed?” To have such an elementary mission—it feels like Chevalier's insulting him. And doing a great job at it.

“Fool of a brother,” Chevalier says, and presses his cheek against his waiting hand. His look can be interpreted as fondly exasperated. “What does it mean to spend more time in the city? I will not spell it out for you.”

It takes Clavis exactly twenty seconds for the implications to set in, and he shoots a disbelieving glare at Chevalier, who's back to his documents and is no longer acknowledging his existence.

So he tells him, “I hate how I'm beginning to understand you.”

“Thank the little cub for that.”

epilogue

In between commissions, you take a walk at the square, strolling around and admiring the always-lively people of Rhodolite. Times like this you miss Emma—the person you owe the most in your life. She's happily married to someone from Benitoite, and based on the letters she's sent you, she's having the time of her life there. When you're not too busy at work, one of her letters says, come visit me here! I miss you!

You try hard at planning for an extended trip, and Emma has promised to have all expenses paid—which is a nice thing to hear, all things considered.

You stop by the fountain, and as you gaze at it you're reminded of the fountain at the mansion near the Rhodolite-Benitoite border. The sky was clear during that time, still waters shimmering under the bright sun. How it illuminated the parts of Clavis that’s adjacent to the fountain like an inchoate halo.

You're reminded of the fountain, but you remember like a solid, sturdy thing, the memory of your kiss. The way you tried to deny him—resisted him until the last moment, when you thought to yourself, This is my last opportunity, at the very least let me take it.

The water doesn't reflect you sharply in this fountain as the one in the border, but you can still make out the longing in your eyes, the downward curve of your lips. It ripples due to a child throwing a coin into it, and you watch the way the child runs back to her mother, before returning to the reflection and discovering someone else next to you.

Clavis grins in the reflection.

“Your Highness!” you start, placing distance between you, which he decimates by taking another step your way.

“Oh my goodness—fountain inviting fond memories?” he says, goading.

“Shouldn't you be busy doing prince things?” you prevaricate, continuing to back away, and him continuing to move forward.

“'Prince things'? What a way to describe the role of royalty,” he comments, ignoring how you're readying yourself to run. “If you must know, I'm on duty today.”

You're almost close to an alley. “On duty? For what?”

“That's classified.” He's alit with glee saying that. “Why would a non-royal need to know top-secret information?”

“I don't know? Why are you talking to me when you could continue on your top-secret duty?”

It doesn't make any sense. You've already said your goodbyes in the mansion, and that was supposed to be the end of it. You went home biting your lip, suppressing your tears from bursting out of you. You've already accepted your prince-less life the moment you stepped out of the throne room, your signature fresh in that parchment that declared the next king of Rhodolite. Once, Chevalier had given you grace, and in time you've dutifully paid your debt. And in that act he gave you another: a final opportunity of committing Clavis into memory.

Clavis seems to read your thoughts, because he quirks his lips and takes your hand and raises them between you, entwines his fingers with yours.

“Why not?” he says, and you want to shake him. “Why do you run away?”

“Because—” you stammer, and Clavis takes this chance to tug you forward, bodies flushed against each other. You can feel his heartbeat racing, and it stops you from attempting to escape his hold.

His eyes are serious when you lift your head to look at his face. It's almost refreshing.

“I'm going to ask you again,” he murmurs; you can feel the rumbling of his chest as he speaks.

“And my answer will be the sa—”

“But is that what you really want?” he challenges. His free hand snakes around your waist, his grip firm and with conviction. “Is it truly that?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“A 'yes'.”

“No—”

“King's orders, you know.”

That makes you pause. Clavis smirks at your confusion, so he elaborates.

“My dear elder brother doing something right for once.” He grunts. “That is vile. I'll never say something like that again.”

“You're not being fair. Why don't you give up?”

“Oh, my dear partner-in-crime,” Clavis says, and the hand on your waist moves up. The other he brings near his lips. “It's always the difficult ones that I'm drawn to.”

You let his lips touch the back of your hand. When he moves it to his cheek and his gaze pierces yours and he gives you the most dazzling smile you've ever seen, your resolve crumbles.

“Okay,” you finally say. “Okay. You win.”

Clavis's joyous laughter fills the air before he kisses you.

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Portrait of a Gentleman 

Portrait of a Gentleman 

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Clavis x MC

Part of One suitor One prompt challenge hosted by @violettduchess

Prompt: Water

Tag: Established relationship Introspective Insecurity Reassurance Kiss Fluff

Word Count  1918

Author’s Note: The uniform referred in the story are these.

A portrait may hide more things than one can imagine, a certain prince knows it well as he gazed intensely at it reflecting upon his brothers' talents and his lack of thereof, finding his worth only through the help of a girl who changed his world upside down with the mighty spell of love. 🥰

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome  @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @natimiles @nightghoul381 @dragon-liquorice @candied-boys

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

The sun was shining through the windows casting its light on the vivid colors of the painting glimmering under its rays, suffusing the whole room in warm hues of yellow and orange except for a corner of shadow, hiding a peculiar visitor whose eyes were locked to the portrait hanged on the wall, his step slow, measured, as he approached it feeling their gazes staring at him. 

They were his brothers, all of them related to him by blood … and yet the more he spent time with them all the more he felt like an outsider they looked down at with a benevolent, if not slightly complacent, attitude for his odd antics, to judge, to chastise, to punish, to order around but not even one to understand him. 

He caressed them one by one, a glowing constellation of stars shining with talent as he stood on the side yearning to shine, waiting for the right time that never seems to arrive for him, seeing all their accomplishment bragged out and about in all the palace, sometimes reaching even behind the castle walls spreading all through the Kingdom as he gazed from the backscene hidden from the view, engulfed in the darkness, destined to the role of a secondary character, his servant and nothing more destined to live in his shadow as he shone bright in the world, waiting to be conquered at his hand and molded at his liking, making his blood boil at the injustice of it all, he was no less than him … then why he was always treated as such ? 

Mayhap he hated to admit but it was true, even though a part of himself refuse to believe so as he stared defiantly at him, gazing down at him, belittling him even from the painting,hate welled in his chest, for himself, for him, for every time he was looked from head to toe from someone, forcing to believe in his own value despite what everyone said, worthy in no one's eyes included his own.

 A longing gaze in his eyes his fingers brushed on his figure standing tall and proud next to Chevalier, smiling as ever but he could see clear as day the fakeness of it, how he hated that moment a self deprecative chuckle escaped his lips as he recalled the shrilling voice of the painter, who constantly told him to keep quiet to avoid making laugh all his brothers, but him staring down at him with his cold piercing eyes, disdain in his gaze at his antics impatient to waste time in such useless way. 

They were his brothers, a glowing constellation he did not feel part of.

Leon bigger than life, shining like the sun at the center of the crowd ready to accept and listen to everyone, a leader for them all, his smile so bewitching to befriend and conquer the most aloof and distant among the nobles, convincing effortlessly even the most sceptical person of the Kingdom, radiating warmth in stark contrast with

Chevalier haughty and proud as he looked down at everyone like the moon, far away and detached, his cold gaze harbor of justice to do what was best for the Kingdom, a true born genius praised and feared alike among the palace and the townsfolk, almighty and ever powerful destined to never see a defeat in every matter he decided to put his mind on. 

Jin a wistful gaze in his eyes as he stared at the painter, catching a glimpse of the deep distress in Luke’s eyes as he angrily loosened the collar of his shirt, not bothering to hide his ever hate for formal clothes, a light smile accommodating and polite curling his lips, impartial and fair in treating with everyone, his expression talked of pain and duty he took upon himself to keep his little brothers safe, doing his best to avoid any fight, master at de escalate any situation he was involved in with a wisdom beyond his age, covered by a mask he crafted to put a lid on his feelings focused entirely on his Kingdom.

Luke smiling as ever unaware of the darkness of the world, or so he thought, but he could see how devoid of emotions it was, a glimpse of discomfort in his green eyes as he stared listless at the painter not caring to seem interested in what he was not, his adaptability skills would have made him a great leader if he ever was interested in becoming it that is, but he wasn't, his indifference showed even through his official clothes he wore like an armor, a cage he broke free as soon as the painter proclaimed a break, swift to switch in his more comfortable clothes and to escape away from the palace until late at night.

Nokto and Licht two peas in a pod doing their best to smile yet he could see how empty and forceful it was, staring at the painter without really seeing him, similarities easiest to be noticed than the differences they did everything to underline to a world who decided to judge them since birth as nothing but an issue for the Kingdom they did their best to protect, the good instinct of Licht lead him to save and protect his people all the while pushing them away from the source of bad luck he believed to be, isolating from any crowd while Nokto embraced it, using everyone for his goals, negotiating his way through the palace gaining friends and enemies alike but doing it all to make his country prosper.

Yves looking as much uncomfortable as the twins but hiding it, a creature of perfection showed through every last detail of his shining clothes, standing still like a statue imposing his right to be there like everyone else, staring almost definitely at the painter daring him to tell otherwise, thing he was long accustomed to deal with.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as his fingers lingered on his reflection looking back at him derisively, mocking all he ever was, all he pretended to be, something else than a sore loser, a mediocre fool with no talents, unlike his brothers everyone excelling in something he could not contemplate to be even remotely good enough at.

The not special prince of Rhodolite Clavis Lelouch nothing more than a troublesome hellcat no one feel the need for, the ever be servant of Chevalier overshadowed by him every step he take, his inventiveness brushed aside as craziness and maybe it was but not for him.

He brushed his digit on his face, his amber eyes shining with pride for a trap he had finished building, a low chuckle erupted from his chest before he could stop it, the screams of the waiter who ended up covered in floor and feathers made up for all the boredom he get that day alike the anger flashing in the butler’s eyes as he slip on the way too smooth floor of the hall.

His smile graced his face but he could see how tight he was, standing among his brothers and next to him, in his shadow in the painting like he was all in all his life, souring all the fun he had thereafter with his traps as the memory resurfaced in his mind.

It was the breaking of dawn and he was already up taking care of his uniform, the rays of the sun shining on the golden embroidery and buttons he spent so much time polishing one by one, it looked wonderful on him he straightened his posture as his heart swelled with pride for once he saw a King staring back at him from the mirror, but it lasted only a second, a blink and it was gone like the fleeting wishful dreams of a lunatic carried over by the wind away from him, destined to yearn for a thing he never was made to dream of.

It was when he saw him in the throne room that his heart sank heavy in his chest, he swallowed his wounded pride, masking his distress with a smile even if forceful, not in all the world he would have given him the satisfaction to see him crumbling in front of him to see his weakness in plain sight even though he already know of that shameful side of him way too much for his liking.

He looked radiating in his impeccable uniform walking tall and proud in the place he was destined to take on the throne, stopping only to sit in the armchair brought there for the occasion, a glimpse of hope flickered in his heart as a delicate sultry voice whispered in his ear that the game was far from over and there was plenty of time to overturn the cards, he only had to work harder to beat him, like he had all his life, craving to be noticed just once, to see his values recognised despite all he thought of himself, to feel, be even for once in all his life, to be special for someone and loved more than anyone else, to win his place in someone heart despite all his flaws, to be seen through his mask and accepted with everything he was and could not change.

He did not know he was crying until he felt something wet soak the upper hem of his shirt, he lashed his fingers away scared to taint that painting indelibly with the proof of his weakness, swift to slide his trembling fingers on his cheeks rushing in drying his tears, a look of terror glimmered in his misty eyes as he heard the door opening his heart clamoring loudly  in his chest in time with the soft yet heavy footsteps approaching him, nearer at each passing minute … he closed his eyes managing to keep at bay his emotions, reopening them only when a pair of arms circled around him closing on his back.

That contact, strangely so, moved him even more as a single lonely tear rolled slowly on his cheeks, he was to dry it off when he was caught off guard by her, her smile radiating acceptance and love as she looked at him melting her lips slowly on his. 

It was far from being the first time they kissed and yet that time felt more intimate as kissed her with all his passion, reluctantly pulling away only to melt his lips over hers again and again until they were breathless, overwhelmed by his love he leaned his forehead to hers taking her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks, looking straight into her eyes, his voice husky and needy as he murmured few inches from her lips.

“I love you so much, my little rabbit.” 

Her smile shining with the smoldering warmth of thousand suns melting his heat completely, making of him but a pup ready to obey her every order 

“I love you too, my leopard.” he kissed her once more feeling her fingers grip his shirt enough to steady herself amidst the untamable passion enrapturing them both in its spires staying like this enveloped in their own little world until noon, when he decided to bring her to his room ready to shower her in all the affection he held deep in his heart for her alone, with only the aster as audience for their peculiar spectacle enriched by the spell of the almighty power of love.

[yarnnerdally]

Hehe! It's short but I like it a lot. Enjoy @violettduchess and everyone else following me and this challenge!

Title: TFW Things Go Wrong™️

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, Emma, Yves Kloss, Licht Klein (mentioned)

Prompt: Water

Rating: G

Word Count: 281

Tags: pranks, pranks gone wrong, one suitor one prompt content creation challenge

Classic. Brilliant. A supreme feat of engineering and stealth. There were many more adjectives Clavis could think of for this most recent plot against his brothers but he settled for these more humble terms. The dining room door was closed before breakfast and thus, from the outside, none would be the wiser. Inside, to the left and above the door frame sat a bucket of water. This bucket of water sat precariously on a slightly tilted platform and was tied to the door. Once the door was opened, the frigid water would douse an unsuspecting Yves, and maybe even Licht as well if he was lucky. Now all he had to do was wait and enjoy the show. However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. The scene happened in slow motion, unfurling before him as a rare look of horror appeared over his handsome features. He miscalculated. How could he have miscalculated? What had he missed? Emma seemed to be a variable in everything that skewed his data. Her look of confusion was only there for a moment before running through a gamut of other emotions. Namely shock giving way to anger. The bucket, thankfully, had stopped a good seven or so inches above her head, but the water inside had not been contained. Behind her stood an equally angered Yves. Whatever berating Clavis was subjected to from the fifth prince was going in one ear and out the other as he watched Emma stalk up to him, eyes fierce despite looking like a drowned bunny. She held a hand up towards Yves and he quieted. "Clavis Lelouch, I suggest you choose your next words wisely."

[nightghoul381]

The Fairy Tale's End~ Clavis x Reader

Prompt: Water Pairing: Clavis Lelouch x Reader Genre: Angst Warning: Character Death A/N: This hurt to write... I need to write a couple fluffy stories to recover. Thank you @violettduchess for coming up with and hosting this challenge!

This was supposed to be a wonderful vacation; it was your honeymoon, after all.

It had been Clavis’s idea to go to Benitoite and commission a ship to take the two of you out for few days. You shared the delicious food with your new husband, enjoyed sunsets and sunrises on the ocean, not to mention the secluded privacy of your cabin each night. It was perfect; until it wasn’t.

It began with the violent pitching of the ship, sending the two of you sprawling onto the floor. All sound seemed to be submerged in the vicious roar of the waves and the pounding of rain against the deck. You nearly miss Clavis’s worried shouts as he stumbles over to where you remain curled on the cold wood.

You’re still stunned, sleep fading to fear and confusion as the ship begins to roll again throwing you into the wall. Clavis uses the movement of the ship to spur himself closer to you, his arms finally coming to rest around your frame.

“Are you alright my dear?” He yells, voice faint despite his nearness.

You nod in response, clinging to his arms as the ship continues to be tossed about.

Water began to seep in under the door and your eyes meet Clavis’s golden irises in panic.

“I need to check on the captain, you stay here unless the water rises any further!” He shouts, gently setting you on the bed and pressing a kiss to your forehead, before darting out the door.

The screaming wind whips the door open, allowing you a glimpse of the ocean waves and sheets of rain bleeding into one another, an impenetrable wall of water. You curse yourself for letting your fear get the better of you as you cower into the sheets. You had limited experience with being on the ocean and no experience with storms, so the immense power the ship was subjected to was nothing short of terrifying.

You faintly hear the shouting of the crew as they try to keep the ship as steady as they possibly could. You grasp desperately to the frame of the bed, praying for the storm to be over soon, when the shouting of the men becomes more rapid and frantic.

Are we going to capsize? Your mind is racing with different scenarios that would prompt the crew to become more panicked. Your imagination continues to spin out of control, head swimming for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the rocking of the ship slows, the sound of thunder becoming distant and the rain easing off.

The sound of hurried footsteps makes your heart leap. You jump up from the bed, legs trembling with relief and left over adrenaline

“Clavis! Thank go—” Your greeting is cut short.

The man who enters the room is not your beloved husband, rather his most trusted knight slowly approaches you, head bowed. Your breath catches in your throat. This makes no sense, why wouldn’t your husband come to fetch you himself?

“Cyran…“,  you start, surprised at how frail your voice sounds. “Where is Clavis?”

If possible his head lowers even more, his gaze stubbornly cast on his boots. After a short while of no response, your mind jumps to the worst possible scenario. Desperate for reassurance, for him to prove you wrong, you ask again.

“Cyran, where is he?”

Your heart is racing, dread shooting through every nerve, flooding every sense. Your mind begins to cloud as your shallow, rapid breaths refuse to allow enough air through.

“I’m so sorry.” Cyran’s soft whisper is clearly choked with grief. He finally brings his eyes up to meet yours, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“…No….No, you’re wrong… You have to be wrong…” Your words fade, disbelief and despair gripping your throat, squeezing until nothing could pass through.

“H-he was rescuing a young man…  he’d slipped over the railing. Th-the wave came out of nowhere. I couldn’t get there in time… I’m so, so sorry.” Cyran drops to his knees before you, face buried in his hands. Sobs wrack his body as you sink back onto the bed.

You hardly notice.

Your world has been shattered. Completely and utterly destroyed.

This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. Please tell me I’m dreaming,

Your fairytale has come to an end, the sea claiming your dear husband for herself.

[feathers-nest]

First fic I'm posting directly to this new separate blog.

I still need more practice writing for Prince and this is also my first time attempting to write Clavis, but I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a new suitor.

This will likely be the start of a series of fics, not exactly in chronological order and most of them able to sand alone, of a Magic/Fantasy AU with Water Dragon!Readerx Clavis, inspired by the following event and my slight obsession with magical or non-human characters (is the lack of it why I struggle a little with Prince although I want to write more for it?).

This part was written for:

By @violettduchess

Did I even finish it in time?

The event's prompt being Water and it turned to be the basis of the whole series more so than this specific fic as I didn't have the time to work on the first idea I had.

Series Maserlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

“We could…” Clavis started to suggest, watching the streams of water in the air that dripped over the garden’s plants.

“No.” You interrupted your lover, trying to walk away, but he followed.

You were trying to water the plants that morning - gardening was a good hobby and a good use and training for your newfound powers - when he had approached you.

“What about…”

“No!”

“But it would be interesting, wouldn’t it? And it’s not like anyone would get hurt.”

By his tone of voice, he found your frustration as amusing as whatever ideas he had. Not that you were exactly frustrated, you just wanted him to believe you were.

You finally spun around, looking him in the eyes.

“Clavis, I love you, I go along with a lot of things” both because it was difficult not to let him drag you around and because you were willing to indulge him, “but I will not use my powers to help you on your pranks.” You kissed him, smiling softly.

Ever since you found out your family wasn’t completely human, and that you had water powers, Clavis had been trying to convince you to join him in his pranks. You had no plans to give in, but even you found it amusing to see him try.

“Is this a challenge, my dear?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t dare challenge you. But you know I’m not comfortable using my powers in such a way, and I know that, although you insist, you wouldn’t force me to.”

“Not comfortable? What about what I saw yesterday with Emma and Linet?”

“It’s different between us. A ladies game. Why do you want me to help you so badly?”

“Is it that strange that I would like to share some fun moments with my lover? You already work so hard, I thought of making your training more interesting.”

In other words, he wanted more time with you. You were surprised, but so touched.

It was true that you had been busier since you discovered these powers, but it had been because of him, too.

“Thank you, Clavis.” You kissed his cheek and held his hand. “Sorry I have been busy, but you don’t need to go that far. I actually wanted to get better at controlling my powers to avoid an incident like last week.”

“So getting me all wet was an accident? I thought it was your way to come on to me.”

“And I was so torn between laughing and staring at how hot you looked all drenched that I just let you think so. But it was an incident. You surprised me and my powers burst out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, but I wanted that to happen. A small sacrifice to cheer my lover up.”

“Sure.”

You chuckled and stepped closer to him again, but stopped when you felt water dripping into you, freezing when you realized you had gotten distracted when using your powers. The water streams had spread, creating a soft drizzle in the whole garden.

You panicked and tried to retreat them, but when Clavis touched you out of nowhere you nearly jumped and the water burst in all directions, drenching both of you, and by the cries you heard in the background, caught someone else too.

“Was that on purpose, too?”

“No. But it is a hot summer and you look cute with your hair all wet like this.” He pushed a strand of wet hair away from your face.

He really did it on purpose, but you just couldn’t be mad at him. You also reached to adjust his hair, laughing, while Clavis smiled at you.

You should get used to how things were going to be from now on and, sincerely, you didn’t mind much.

Series Maserlist // Main Masterlist

[kaizoku-musume]

Flower Petals in the Water-Clavis x OC

It's been years since I've written anything that wasn't a poem, but @violettduchess's event got the creative juices flowing and gave me an opportunity to finally type out some of the ideas that have been percolating since I joined this fandom, so here we go. It's way too long because I am incapable of writing a short drabble to save my life, but I hope you like it anyway.

Event/prompt: One suitor, one promps ccc, Clavis, water

Word count: 7.1 k

Lisette was having a wonderful day so far: the breakfast Clavis made for her that morning had hints of recognizable flavors, he’d delivered her to the location of what was supposed to be an assassination attempt on Chevalier so she could get a light warm-up in, and now she was peacefully reading a new book he’d gifted her in the garden, void of the sounds of one of his traps setting off and causing mayhem in the distance (that one was a bit of a toss-up, as she usually quite enjoyed watching the destruction, but this was a pretty good book and it would be a shame to be drawn out of it so soon).

He was clearly buttering her up for something. Lisette couldn’t let her guard down around her partner on a regular day, but she had soon come to learn that there would be days she’d have to be extra cautious. The fun thing about Clavis was that Lisette could never be sure what he was planning. It could be anything from him setting up a day of elaborate traps solely for her to a spontaneous visit to another country. It was, thankfully, often more entertaining than it was frustrating.

Lisette waffled between deciding whether to try to figure out what was going on or just let things play out and go with the flow. It was against her nature to go into a situation unprepared when she could help it, but Clavis was always so happy when he could surprise her. And it wasn’t like he’d come up with anything that went too far or was more dangerous than she could handle yet. But he could just be lulling her into a false sense of security-any good tactician knows the best way to catch someone off guard is to have them underestimate you. And wouldn’t that be something: if Clavis one day set up a situation where Lisette actually struggled. Lisette doubted that, though. Clavis was too much of a gentleman, and as much as he loved to watch Lisette fight, he never wanted to put her in any real trouble.

With an internal shrug, Lisette carried on reading. If Clavis was planning something crazy, Cyran would have made some mention of it by now. Probably. Her fellow redhead, despite being well aware that Lisette could handle herself, commiserated with her about Clavis’ antics enough that he usually informed her when his plans tipped more on the “bad” side of the scale than the “good.” Besides, it had been a good week since Clavis had last pulled off something a bit more than his daily disturbances. Best to just let him get it out of his system. Lisette will most likely end up enjoying whatever he’s come up with anyway.

* * *

It turned out, Lisette had to wait until after dinner to find out what Clavis was up to. She was on her way back to her room, wondering if Clavis was doing this on purpose to make her think he was up to something when he actually wasn’t just to keep her on her toes (it’s what she would do in his position, just to mess with him), or if she should start considering the possibility that Clavis’ plan was some new idea he wanted to introduce in bed. She didn’t have to think about it for long, because Clavis sidled up to her in that ‘I’m up to something but I’m going to pass it off as normal’ way he had. Lisette was caught on the sway of his hips for a second-there was something about his natural fluidity that she found herself drawn to. Especially since he’d started using it to his advantage once he noticed the effect it had on her. Never did Lisette think every day actions like walking would strike her so, but-as always-Clavis proved to be the exception.

A little irritated at Clavis’ blatant display after making her wait this long to approach her, Lisette spoke up before he had the opportunity to. “So you’re ready to admit to whatever you’ve got cooking up?” she arched a brow.

Clavis merely grinned wider. A bit of a shame, really; Lisette missed the days early on when he would pout a bit at being called out like this. But Clavis had gotten over it and switched his mood around by proclaiming she must love him quite a bit if she could read his mind so easily. “Why, that sounds like an accusation. I don’t know what I could have possibly done to deserve it. I’ve been diligently working all day long, far too busy with boring paperwork to be up to be up to something. I say I deserve a nice, relaxing treat for all I’ve been put through.” Clavis wrapped his arm around Lisette’s waist, “And if I’m remembering correctly, you exerted yourself today as well. Taking care of three assassins? Surely that works up a sweat. I think the best remedy is a soothing bath together.”

Lisette studied Clavis, searching for any hints of a secret agenda. But there was nothing that she could see: no amusing curve to his lips (more than usual, at least), no gleam in his eyes that indicated he was using this as a ruse for something else less likely to win her over. For all intents and purposes, Clavis really was just inviting her to bathe together. “That’s it?” she blurted. Now it was Clavis’ turn to raise his eyebrows at her. “Don’t give me that look. You know how your ‘surprises’ usually go. I was expecting something elaborate that would give Sariel a heart attack, or something you’d have to talk me into.” Which was exaggerating things a bit. Lisette hardly had to be talked into going along with Clavis’ schemes-it was really more that she pretended to sometimes, like an extension of the play. Like she was demure Belle, too pure of heart to agree to throw glitter on the king.

Clavis’ smile wavered for just a second. His arm flinched barely perceptively, and his next step contained a brief falter, and there. There it was. He did expect to have to talk her into it. Or he was expecting her to be disappointed by how simple it was, or something. Somehow, he had built this up in his head to be more than it should be. Lisette couldn’t fathom why. She’d never given him any reason to believe she’d turn him down or fight back against some plot of his. She challenged him when he tested her, sure, but she’d always been careful to never look down on or make Clavis feel like his efforts were too silly or too much. She’s been open about the glee she takes when Clavis causes mayhem or introduces her to some new aspect of being in a relationship. It was something that must come from before they got together. Lisette was never sure where Clavis’ baggage came from-if it was solely from his childhood or if his past relationships had contributed. Either way, she was determined to continue to show Clavis that her love, once given, wasn’t something that she took away.

Clavis recovered instantaneously. Anyone other than Lisette probably wouldn’t have noticed his earlier behavior. “Oh my, I didn’t know you were so eager to spend time with me,” he said, “Have I been neglecting you too much today? I’ll have to devote the rest of the night to making sure you’re not lonely after my absence.”

There was almost no point in responding to Clavis seriously when he deflected like this. He would just bulldoze over it with exaggerated responses. No, no, it was way more fun to-

Lisette pinched Clavis’ side, right where he was ticklish. He jerked back with a yelp. She snickered. Clavis cleared his throat, looking flustered. How did Lisette end up with someone cute? That was supposed to be her sister’s thing, and yet here she was, dedicated to a ridiculous, adorable man.

Clavis pirouetted in place with a slick twist and began confidently walking backward, putting more emphasis on his movements than usual, and suddenly Lisette was thinking of adjectives other than cute. She almost forgot: her ridiculous, cute boyfriend was also mischievous. “So, shall we head to my bathroom?” Clavis said. Okay, an almost pointed lack of acknowledgement of what just happened. Probably for the best. If Clavis gave her an opening to make fun of him, he’d be all too eager to counter with her obsession with his hips. Sneaky bastard knew exactly what he was doing with that move. “Not that the guest rooms are lacking, but I’ve noticed a severe shortage of luxuries in your quarters, and I’m not letting you go another day without knowing how decadent baths can be.”

“How extravagant can washing up really be?” Lisette asked, partly out of honesty, partly to drive Clavis crazy. She lived for the reactions he gave every time she played up her ‘rough and tumble’ lifestyle and lack of knowledge on self-care and more than the basic amenities.

“Allow me to show you,” with a showy gesture for her to take his arm, they set off.

* * *

Clavis always has the perfect (often comedic) timing, and now is no different. The bath has reached its peak simmer by the time they arrive, there are flower petals (purple and red, the cheesy dork) floating on the surface, and there’s a cart to the left of the tub full of bottles Lisette can’t even guess at. What more does one need than soap and shampoo? She gets an answer when Clavis takes one of the bottles and upends it into the tub. A deep floral scent hits Lisette. It’s not roses, but beyond that, Lisette has no hope of identifying the flower used based on scent alone, but she has a suspicion. “Did you make any of these yourself?” she asked.

“Only this scented oil and one of the soaps,” Clavis confirmed. “I wanted to try my hand at the hair products, but you have to be extra careful with colored hair, and I wouldn’t want to test it out on you without being sure I could ensure it was safe and healthy to use. Next time, I’ll be able to make the full spread myself.” So the flower was definitely an lisianthus, then. Good thing she liked the scent, since she was certain to smell it much more in the future.

Clavis stepped toward Lisette and slipped his hands under her shirt at the waist. “May I?” he requested. Lisette raised her arms dutifully. Ridiculous of him to ask when he was already halfway taking it off anyway. His hands skimmed her sides as he lifted her shirt over her head, palms briefly cupping her braless breasts. Once her shirt was off, he got down on his knees in order to pull her pants and underwear off in one go, placing open-mouth kisses on her hip as he slowly nudged her bottoms off inch by inch.

“Tease,” Lisette complained breathily. It was unfair how good he looked down there.

“All a part of the process,” Clavis lightly nipped at her hip, “A very necessary step for relaxation. Don’t give me that look, Lisette, what would you know? I love you, dear, but you think a bed off the ground and a tablecloth for a blanket are the height of luxury.” Lisette tipped her head back and laughed. “See?” Clavis insisted, standing up, “You’re already feeling relaxed. Trust my expertise, Lis.”

“Okay, dork,” Lisette took her turn to remove his clothes, cutting off any protests he might have made with a look. Even after their discussion about reciprocity, Clavis still struggled to let Lisette do things like this for him sometimes. But she was going to get him comfortable with being desired and pampered if she had to beat him over the head with it. 

Clavis’ clothes were infinitely more complicated than hers, so she spent a good few moments simply unbuckling all his belts and undoing all his buttons while waving him off when he tried to help. She enjoyed taking her time unraveling Clavis of all his layers, and there was something enticing about the movements needed to unclasp all his accessories. It felt more intimate than just slipping his shirt off. Undoing Clavis’ cravat was probably her favourite part: her hands were so close to his neck, wrapping around the silk fabric as she removed it from him. She’d often tug on it a bit, just to see him forced to bow his head to accommodate it, and that was . . . well, it certainly woke up something in Lisette that she was half eager, half nervous to explore. For now, she held off, too distracted by the sight of Clavis’ neck as the rest of it was revealed. There was a fading hickey that was hidden by his collar, the last bastion of the previous time she worked on him, and Lisette resolved to amend that later. His neck had not gone unblemished since she gave him his first, and that streak was not going to be broken now.

Eventually, Lisette managed to get Clavis fully undressed, and she accepted his hand to pull her to her feet once his pants were at his ankles. Still holding hands, Clavis stepped into the tub first, guiding Lisette to follow and climb in front of him. As one, they sank into the water.

Lisette hummed, tipping her head back against Clavis’ shoulder. She was practically in his lap despite there being plenty of room on the other side of the tub, his legs stretched out on either side of her. It was a position more cramped than Lisette was used to having to deal with in a while, but she was comfortable nonetheless.

“Making those sounds before I even get my hands on you?” Clavis wrapped his arms around her lower torso, absent-mindedly tracing one of her scars.

“Nearly all your body is touching me, does that not count?” Lisette quipped. She rested her arms over Clavis’. Damn, this was a nice perk to being in a relationship. Best decision she’s ever made.

“Hmm, I suppose I can accept that. It just means you love all of me that much, doesn’t it?” Clavis preened. Lisette rolled her eyes even though Clavis couldn’t see. She knew he was aware of it anyway. The way Clavis squeezed her gently certainly seemed to indicate it. With a kiss to her cheek, Clavis reached toward the cart to grab an empty pitcher. He filled it with water from the tub and, after covering Lisette’s eyes, poured it over her hair. When her hair was wet enough, he reached for one of the jars.

“So how many smells are we introducing here?” Lisette joked when a different scent from the bath oil hit her nose. This one was citrusy? Mild enough to mix well with the floral scent, at least.

“Shush,” Clavis faux scolded, “I’m introducing you to something that will change your life. By the time we’re done, you’ll be twice as in love with me. I’ll have you saying ‘Clavis, you’re the best, I’ve never felt so good before!’”

“Oh, is that what I’m supposed to say? Because that sounds exactly like what you told me the first time you ate me out," Lisette said.

“Every experience with me is life changing, my prickly sourpuss,” Clavis tipped the liquid in the jar into his hand, put the jar back on the cart, and used his now free hand to scratch against Lisette’s stomach just to hear her giggle. Lisette wasn’t ticklish, but Clavis trying in vain to find her weak spot made her laugh anyway.

Clavis set to work lathering the shampoo into Lisette’s hair. She already missed not being able to lean against his shoulder, but the feeling of his hands massaging her scalp was a more than worthwhile trade. He took his time with it, despite her hair not reaching past her shoulders. “It’s taking your color out,” he noted, “even though this is supposed to be good for color-treated hair.”

“Certain ones will take the color out faster, yeah,” Lisette said. His hands must be catching the bright red. She kind of wanted to see it. “But a little bit comes out with every wash anyway. Still lasts for a good while, though. And I like it when my natural color pokes through, so I don’t always dye it back right away. It gives it a really cool effect. I chose a color that went really good with black because I thought I’d be lazier about it, but I’ve grown to really like the red.” Her brother did the same thing as her, occasionally letting his blond roots show among the pink, but her sister never let a hint of her natural color show and always made sure to maintain the purple..

“Ooh, I’d like to see that,” Clavis finally rinsed her hair out. Once her hair was free of shampoo, he took another jar with a different liquid and focused on sudsing it through the strands of her hair, avoiding her roots. “I bet it looks more threatening and that’s why you like it, isn’t it?”

Lisette just barely remembered not to tilt her head back to laugh, “Ha, it totally is!”

After methodically running the conditioner through her hair and rinsing it out, Clavis grabbed yet another bottle and started applying it to her skin. He started at her shoulders, massaging the oil into her skin. Lisette tipped her head forward and groaned. “That’s what I want to hear,” Clavis murmured. He dug into the knots in her neck, intent on drawing more noises from her. When her shoulders were free from residual signs of stress, he moved onto her back, urging her forward a bit. Clavis paid special attention to her spine, addressing any kinks or tension.

Satisfied with his work, Clavis swept his hands down her arms, rubbing at her joints and tendons before sliding into the space between her fingers, his own curling against her palm. Clavis used his grip on her hand to tug it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her scarred knuckles, soap and all. “Sap,” Lisette playfully grumbled.

“Happily so,” Clavis booped her nose before tapping her leg and then the edge of the tub. Confused, Lisette nonetheless dutifully propped her legs up. Weird that he would move onto there before getting to her chest. But here he was, dragging his hands up her legs, fingers pushing into her muscles as he rubbed the oil into her skin. His touches were more therapeutic than sensual-either he was holding back for the moment or this was a part of foreplay that Lisette was new to. He had to scooch forward to reach while she drew them closer to her, his chest plastered to her back, but he wasn’t taking advantage of the position. Lisette was starting to get really invested in just a simple massage by the time he moved onto her feet, knuckling her soles as best he could from the angle.

He used the pitcher to help wash her off, but instead of doing literally anything else Lisette was expecting (highest being touch her with intent), he grabbed another jar and started following the same path he just made. “Didn’t you already do this?” she said.

“What I just used was soap specifically designed to soothe sore muscles,” Clavis stroked her shoulders, “It does clean you as well, but it’s main purpose is medicinal. This is regular soap.”

“There’s more than one kind of soap?!” Lisette exclaimed.

Clavis froze for a second. “Lisette, darling, I adore you beyond measure. So please know that I say this with love: your standards are abysmal.”

“Are you saying multiple soaps aren’t just fancy royal shit?” she couldn’t help but egg him on. Didn’t mean it wasn’t an honest question.

“No, Lisette. You have to know that,” Clavis despaired, “Surely your brother has a regime similar to this.”

“He could, but I wouldn’t know,” Lisette shrugged, “It’s not like he would have brought it up with me.”

“Well, good thing you have me then, isn’t it?” Clavis grabbed her hand again and brought it to his lips.

“Stop being cute,” Lisette grumbled, but her tone was fond, fond, fond. Always fond, for her sappy, cute lover.

“And start being serious?” this time, Clavis brought his hands to her chest, “That can certainly be arranged.” He took his sweet time rubbing the regular, non-special soap onto her upper chest, but Lisette was too used to his teasing to even think of saying anything yet. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. Her determination wavered when Clavis raised a hand to her neck, gripping it gently and tipping her head back onto his shoulder so he could lean over and kiss her cheek. Lisette tried to tilt her head to the side for a proper kiss, but the faintest squeeze to her neck stopped her.

“Clavis,” Lisette sighed. Well, so much for that. She should have expected this; motherfucker knew all her weak points. With his free hand, Clavis palmed her left breast. He nibbled Lisette’s ear as he played with her breast: squeezing it, rubbing the oiled soap across it, flicking his thumb across her nipple. “Clavis,” Lisette repeated, breathier than before. It was interesting to feel herself get wet even though she was submerged in water.

Reluctantly, Clavis let go of her neck. Less reluctantly, it was to pay attention to her other breast. He tweaked and twisted her nipples, tugging on them every so often. He took a break to rub around her areolas before going back to pinching and pulling. “Mmmm,” Lisette moaned, pushing her breasts further into his touch and gripping his knees to ground herself. Just when she was starting to get really riled up, Clavis let go and reached for more soap, then started applying it to her sternum and stomach.

“Asshole,” Lisette groaned. Clavis merely chuckled and placatingly soothed her toned abs. His hands crept dangerously low on her hips, briefly running through her pubic hair and palming her mound, only to slide back up. “Fuckin’ tease,” Lisette accused, sounding more dismayed than angry. Suddenly, a luxurious bath was sounding less appealing than other activities they could be engaged in.

“So many compliments,” Clavis crooned, like the smug asshole he was. He went back to doting attention to her legs, bringing them together chest-to-back again as he leaned them forward in order to reach. Except this time, he also plastered kisses to the back of Lisette’s neck, and Lisette was more keenly aware of his hard cock nudging her rear. Now, suffering through Clavis lavishing her legs, Lisette was significantly more impatient for him to move on. The heat of his chest on her back felt like a brand and he was focusing more on her erogenous zones as he washed her legs, teasing her inner thighs; it took everything in her not to fidget, hoping to ease the ache inside her.

But finally, finally, Clavis was all done with her legs. And to Lisette’s relief, it seemed like Clavis viewed his previous actions as teasing enough, because he guided them into a reclining position as his right hand came to rest on her inner thigh while his left went back to her breast. Lisette fully relaxed against Clavis, keeping her legs up on the edge of the tub to keep herself easily spread open for his access. “Eager?” Clavis gloated.

“Hell yeah,” Lisette admitted, locking her hands together behind Clavis’ neck to give Clavis unobstructed access to her body and give her body a seductive arch, two things she knew would hit him hard. She could hear him swallow in arousal and smirked to herself. Submissive wasn’t normally an apt word to describe Lisette, but she’d been more than willing to let Clavis guide her how he wanted during sex and knew it always got to him when she willingly allowed herself to be restrained or follow his orders. Initiating intimacy was another thing that got to him-Lisette could imagine that it must be heady for Clavis to know that someone who once had no interest in sex was excited for it with him.

“Hahaha, my bad! If I had known you were so interested in taking things further, I would have done something sooner,” Clavis lied.

“No you wouldn’t,” Lisette said, “Even now, I hear talking but don’t see any doing.” She twirled her foot in the air in what she hoped was a goading gesture.

Clavis laughed, but at least he also started moving, so Lisette counted it as a double-win. With one finger, he circled her left areola as another traced around her labia. Lisette leaned her head back against Clavis’ shoulder and hummed. If the water was just a little bit hotter like when they first got in, this would be near perfect.

Thankfully, without any coaxing from Lisette, Clavis’ touches got more serious. He rubbed across her nipple and clit at the same time, drawing out a sigh from Lisette. His fingers mirrored each other: when one flicked up and down, so did the other. When one applied pressure, the other followed. The dual sensations had Lisette panting. Clavis brought more fingers into the mix as he rubbed and rolled her nubs. He pinched both, causing Lisette to gasp, but where he started twisting and tugging her nipple, he lept his movements over her clit firm but gentle kneading. “Mmm, Clavis,” Lisette groaned appreciatively.

“Good?” Clavis asked. Lisette nodded and pressed herself further into his touch in answer. She tilted her face into his neck as she focused on breathing evenly. It was ridiculous, how quickly she was being wound up. This wasn’t going to last long at all. Perhaps sensing that, Clavis sped up his movements. Lisette found herself even closer to the edge than she thought she was.

“Clavis-” she started, maybe to warn him, maybe to ask him to slow down or speed up, Lisette didn’t even know. But Clavis dug a fingernail into her nipple as he squeezed it and added just the right pressure when he passed over her clit, and all of a sudden Lisette was tensing as an orgasm rushed through her.

When she came down, panting and tingling with aftershocks, she realized that Clavis’ hands hadn’t moved at all. And when he sensed that she had recovered somewhat, the fingers on her clit slid past her folds to her entrance, pressing against her opening without dipping in. “Oooh, yes,” Lisette urged just in case he was asking for permission. 

“Insatiable, are we?” Clavis slipped two fingers into her at once, cutting off any remark she had been thinking of making. Lisette huffed at the sudden stretch, grateful that her orgasm had left her feeling loose without making her too sensitive. “I’m more than happy to oblige,” he began pumping them in and out of her at a steady pace, left hand splayed out almost possessively over her breast. Lisette made a small, surprised sound at the feeling of water slipping into her cunt while Clavis fingered her. “You know I love seeing you lose yourself to pleasure.” He plunged his fingers as deep as they could manage from the angle on each press in and dragged them against her walls on each pull out, spreading them apart near on every other pass.

Lisette gave up trying to keep her composure as Clavis’ fingers drove relentlessly inside her, occasionally squeezing the palmful of breast he held. It was a challenge just to keep her hands locked behind his head, she was clenching them so hard. Lisette buried her head further in Clavis’ neck, gulping down air as he scissored into her. To her relief, Clavis smoothly slid a third finger alongside the other two, stretching her out even further. Lisette was vaguely aware of the sounds she was making, focused more on the fact that Clavis was toying with her abused nipple again while his thumb occasionally brushed against her clit. Lisette’s hips rolled into the motion, trying to match his rhythm.

Clavis pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered, “Are you getting close?” Lisette, unable to verbally respond as her mouth was too busy letting out gasps and moans, nodded in answer. “Do you like it when I play with you like this?” Another nod. “Do you like it when I fill you up and soothe your aching cunt?”

“Clavis,” Lisette whined.

“Do you like it when your pussy no longer feels empty?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Do you like it when I make you come so hard you forget where you are?”

“Yesssss.”

His fingers were rapidly pumping now, the sound of them moving in and out muted by the water. The heel of his hand replaced his thumb, knocking against her clit with each thrust. His thumb and index finger were tugging relentlessly on her nipple. Lisette rocked desperately into his hands, chasing her next release. It was just out of reach but she could feel it simmering beneath the surface. She trusted Clavis to get her there. He just had to-there! He curled his fingers just right, brushing them against her g-spot on each pass. Lisette’s pleasure ratcheted up a million fold, and the orgasm that was nearby was suddenly right there. “Clavis, Clavis, don’t stop, don’t-” she begged before Clavis sealed her lips with his, snaking his tongue into her mouth to wrap around hers and suck as gave her nipple a vicious twist and  pressed and pressed and pressed directly on her sweet spot. Pleasure spiked and Lisette shook as she came, sobs muffled against Clavis’ mouth. The world disappeared for a good few seconds.

Awareness came back gradually. Clavis was still kissing Lisette (good to know she hadn’t accidentally bitten him, because that orgasm was fierce) and the hand at her breast had moved to her side, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. Her own hands had dropped to his arms at some point, holding on for support. Lisette grunted when he gently slid his fingers out of her. With an exaggerated smack, Clavis broke their kiss apart, smiling down at her, half proud, half just . . . happy. It was a good sight to focus on as Lisette returned to the land of the living.

“Fuck, that was good,” Lisette said once her ears stopped ringing and her limbs stopped shivering, stretching as much as she was able to. She leaned up to kiss Clavis herself, hand cupping his cheek, to show her appreciation. She brought her legs back into the tub and shifted her body around so that she was facing Clavis. Sensing her intentions, he made a good attempt at trying to protest, but Lisette kept kissing him to drown out any words and batted his hands away. Only when she was fully turned around did she back away.

Clavis was pouting when she pulled back.”This was supposed to be about you,” he insisted as Lisette reached for the empty pitcher. 

“I distinctly remember you saying you needed a bath just as much as I did earlier,” Lisette covered his eyes as she tipped the water over his head. There was only one jar left that hadn’t been used, and the bottle looked similar to the one that contained her shampoo, so Lisette took it. As she poured the shampoo out and lathered it up, she studied Clavis, who was dripping wet and slightly flushed at the idea of Lisette giving him the same treatment he gave her. When he caught her staring at him, however, he affected a confident smile, with a gleam in his eyes to match. Okay, time to mess with him. “You know,” Lisette teased, “you’re  pretty like this too, even though your wet hair makes you look like a drowned rat.”

Clavis squawked, scandalized and mock offended, but he gave himself away when he laughed as Lisette started scrubbing the shampoo into his hair, trying to massage it in the same way he had. “Nice try, but I know better than to fall for it,” Clavis kept his gaze, still full of confidence, trained on Lisette’s, “You like my hair too much to think it looks bad wet.” Lisette narrowed her eyes at him, but she decided to let it go. For one, he was totally right: he did look a bit silly, but somehow he still looked good, too. More vulnerable, in a weird way. Also, she didn’t want to tease him every time he felt self-assured, otherwise what would be the point of trying to convince him he was it for her?

Knowing it was her loss, Lisette looked away first to reach for the empty pitcher. She blatantly ignored his smug look as she carefully rinsed his hair, guiding his head back and shielding his  forehead to help protect his eyes from the runoff. She went for the special soap next, but the bottle was suspiciously light when she took it. She shook it just to make sure, and yep: empty. Lisette leveled an accusatory glare at Clavis, who shrugged innocently. “Oh dear, is there not enough? That’s too bad, maybe next time.” Yeah, right. Motherfucker knew exactly what he was doing by not filling it up enough. Well, that was fine-Lisette would just have to get him back. Maybe blindside him with a good present or something, make him realize he can’t get away with accepting less for himself.

With nothing for it, Lisette switched to the regular soap, following the same path Clavis did. The fading hickey called out to her as she started at his shoulders, but she would get back to it later. She scooted closer to hug Clavis and mouth at his jaw while she took care of his back. His cock poked into her inner thigh, but she would get back to that later, too. 

Clavis chased her mouth when she pulled back to make quick work of his arms, giving her a quick peck before letting her focus on what she was doing. Lisette made quicker work of his arms than she intended to, drawn to impatience thanks to Clavis being adorable and kissable. When she got to his torso, she tried to pay as much attention to his pecs as he had with her breasts, squeezing each in a handful, rubbing and pinching his nipples, scratching lightly across his skin. Clavis bit his lip, his hands coming to rest on her waist. “Time-time to move on, don’t you think, Lis?” Clavis pleaded (and he could argue all he wanted, that’s exactly what it was) when she gave his right nipple a sharp tug.

Lisette chuckled, “Sure, babe, I can take mercy on you.” She carefully slid her hands down his torso, applying gentle pressure along his stomach and sides to avoid setting off his ticklish spots. He quivered a bit, muscles contracting, and Lisette resolved to explore that more some other time. “So sensitive,” she murmured.

“That is not what that’s supposed to mean,” Clavis said.

Lisette shrugged, backing up a bit to better access his legs. “Well, I’m happy to show you how else you’re sensitive if you really insist.” She emphasized her words by wrapping her hands around his inner thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into his pelvic bone. Clavis mumbled something about not wanting to interrupt. Taking pity on him, Lisette washed his legs, enjoying the way he trembled whenever she swept her hands up his thighs and close to his cock. Okay, so maybe not a lot of pity. To rectify that, she didn’t spend as long on his legs as he had hers, and when she was done, she scooted closer, cupping his jaw and giving him a smooch. “I’m gonna take care of you now, yeah?” Clavis gulped and nodded his assent, wrapping his arms around her neck and kissing her. 

Without any preamble, Lisette reached down and gripped his cock in one hand, using her other to soothingly caress his leg, his side, his chest, his neck, scratching here and there to add a different sensation. She slowly stroked his cock, easing him into it. His breathing had already picked up, tiny huffs she felt against her lips. Clavis liked to go on about preferring to give than take, but Lisette was exactly the same way: the way Clavis reacted when she touched him was too intoxicating for her to resist.

Lisette sped up her motions, occasionally twisting the head on her upstrokes, thumb rubbing over his slit when possible. Clavis’ hips started jerking into the motion, like he was still trying to hold back but his body wasn’t cooperating. He was starting to make more noise that he tried to stifle by kissing Lisette deeper, arms tightening involuntarily around her shoulders. She wound him up a bit more, listening to him getting louder and moving more insistently.

Lisette lifted her free hand along his chest, over his collarbone, circling the back of his neck until she reached his nape. She carefully ran her hand up through the roots of his hair and gripped a fistfull before tugging. His head tipped back, ripping a half-gasp, half-moan out of him, his hips jolting up in response. Clavis sat, dazed, mouth open unconsciously and freely letting loose the whimpers he’d tried to hide earlier, unfocused gaze resting on her forehead due to the angle Lisette craned his head at. His neck was now on full display, and there was that damn nearly gone hickey, taunting her. 

Clavis gathered himself and looked down, noticing Lisette’s intense gaze. He wriggled in what was probably meant to be an enticing way, golden eyes alight with mischief. “Not enough marks on me?” he purred, “Need to cover me in bruises so everyone knows I’m yours?” Lisette growled, tightening her grip on his hair. Clavis groaned, toes curling at the sensation. One day, Lisette was going to have to test just how much Clavis liked having his hair yanked.

Clavis tipped his head back as much as he could manage, which was . . . well. He could nudge it the slightest inch, but that was all the encouragement Lisette needed. Interpreting his request, she obligingly dragged his head back more until he was staring at the ceiling, his back curving to accommodate the new position. “Have at it, Lisette,” he coaxed, voice low and seductive like an incubus hypnotizing his target, “Brand me. Dig your teeth in and eat. Mark a collar around my throat. Remind me that I belong to you.”

With a snarl, Lisette did just that. Lips and teeth and tongue latched onto his throat, biting and licking and sucking. Her other hand, which had gone still around his cock, sped up to match the pace of her mouth. Lisette started on the spot where the previous hickey was, coaxing it back to life. When she was satisfied, she moved onto the rest of his neck, drawing out hickeys wherever she could: low on his collarbone, high near his jaw, dead center across his adams’ apple. Blooms of color erupted on his skin, imprints of teeth marks left here and there.

Clavis got louder and louder, one hand attempting to gain purchase in her hair and the other clinging to her lower back, pressing her closer to him. Lisette went happily, pressing herself until they were chest-to-chest, his cock trapped between their stomachs. It was a bit harder to get a good angle to stroke him, but their bodies rocking together and driving up the friction made up for it.

Lisette, knowing Clavis was getting close, latched onto a spot on his neck-about halfway up his neck, directly beneath his beauty mark-that she knew was particularly sensitive. She licked a stripe across it before mouthing at it, closed-mouth kisses placed so lightly they felt like butterfly kisses. Clavis squirmed, voice going a touch higher-pitched.

She started sucking at that patch of skin, encouraging blood to rise to the surface as she worked at it. She stroked his cock faster, both actions drawing a loud moan from Clavis. He was right on the edge, she could tell: his body was trembling in that tell-tale way of his, muscles contracting with every breath, extremities tensing in preparation. Without warning, Lisette’s teeth clamped down on his neck and she gave one last, strong suck while her thumb dug into the glans right underneath the head of his cock. With a wail, Clavis tipped over the edge. Lisette gradually slowed the pace of her strokes on his cock until she stopped, letting him ride it out as much as he could before getting overstimulated. She dragged her mouth off his neck but kept her grip on his hair, hoping the feeling would help him stay grounded as he came down.

Lisette studied Clavis as he regained his bearings. His neck was a disaster zone of bruises that were just starting to form. It fulfilled something deeply primal in Lisette. Clavis may be a leg man, but this was Lisette’s preference.

“Well,” Clavis said, still slightly out of breath, “that was certainly satisfying.” He pressed on a couple of the newly-made bruises, biting his lower lip at the sting.  Lisette felt herself getting wound up all over again at the sight. The way Clavis enjoyed being marked as much as she loved marking him caused this endless loop of arousal through her-it made her want to repeat the process all over again. 

Clavis took notice of Lisette’s renewed interest. He smirked wolfishly and brought his hands back to her waist. “Did that get you all hot and bothered again? I can certainly be persuaded to indulge in a second round.”

“I think we should take it to bed,” Lisette gestured to the water, now gone opaque with their runoff and, well, their other runoff. The water was beginning to get cold, too.

Clavis laughed, “Good point. I’m all up for making a mess, but I'm usually not caught up in it myself. But it was worth it, wasn’t it?”

There was nothing obvious in his tone that indicated he was looking for validation, but Lisette knew her boyfriend. She cradled his cheeks in her hands as she said, “It was. Thanks for suggesting this, Clavis. I really enjoyed it.”

Clavis glanced away, flustered, but he still preened, “Of course, I always come up with great ideas.”

“Exactly,” Lisette couldn’t help but kiss him. She pulled away only to nuzzle his nose with hers. “So any more ideas you have, any other things couples do, whatever milestones there are, I wanna do ‘em. I know I’ll have fun because I’ll be with you.” Now Clavis looked like he was getting overwhelmed, but he leaned in to kiss her back, forehead pressed to hers as he promised, “We’ll do everything, Lisette.”

[aquagirl1978]

A Series of Firsts - Content Creator Challenge

This idea has been living rent-free in my head for too long, and as the holiday season and end of the year approaches, I felt it was time to throw this into the void - a content creator challenge focusing only on the lesser popular suitors.

This a suitor-specific event - please read rules below.

Rules:

This challenge begins on December 1 and ends on December 31. Sometime in January, I will create a master list of everything that was submitted for the event.

Entries may be SFW or NSFW (must be 18+ to submit NSFW content) and be either fluff/angst/crack/smut or anything in between - it is at the discretion of the creator which direction they go in, but please tag your works accordingly with any applicable triggers.

This challenge is open to all types of fan work, including fanart and fanfic.

This challenge is open to all Ikemen Series games - Ikemen Sengoku, Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Genjiden, Ikemen Prince and Ikemen Villains.

This challenge is limited to certain suitors - see below for a complete list of suitors. When creating this list, I based it on a general vibe and who had the least amount of content on Tumblr.

Below is a list of prompts for use in this event. Feel free to combine them, go out of order, write for one of them or all of them - create as you wish.

When posting your content for this event, please tag me (@aquagirl1978) as well as include the tag "#series of firsts ccc" for ease of finding your works.

You are free to use the banner posted at the top of this post when submitting your content or you can create any banner of your choosing, if you wish to have one.

Any questions, please send me an ask or DM me.

Elligible Suitors:

Ikemen Sengoku: Yoshimoto, Ranmaru, Sasuke, Kennyo, Mitsunari, Keiji, Kicho, Hideyoshi

Ikemen Revolution: all

Ikemen Vampire: Sebastian, Shakespeare, Jean, Vincent, Dazai, Faust, Charles, Drake, Galileo

Ikemen Genjiden: all

Ikemen Prince: Jin, Sariel, Luke, Leon, Nokto, Rio, Yves, Kagari, Azel, Matthias

Ikemen Villains: all

Prompts:

Below is a typed list of prompts as well as some ideas and suggestions for the prompts.

First Look

First Kiss

First Date

First Time

First Fight

First Celebration

First Child

First Look - the first time you saw one another, the first time you realized you had feelings for the other. This can also include the first time you met one another and first impressions.

First Kiss - can take place on a First Date or happen accidentally. It can be planned or an awkward event that leads to more.

First Date - can include fake dating (that maybe leads to more), planned date, surprise date, or dates that lead to more.

First Time - the first time you were intimate with one another in the bedroom (can include touching, oral, intercourse, etc). Can also include a first time doing something together non-sexually.

First Fight - can include the fight itself, the lead up to it, and/or the eventual kiss and make up portion.

First Celebration - first time celebrating together a birthday, anniversary, holiday.

First Child - finding out you are expecting, the arrival of the child, getting used to new life as parents.

[lorei-writes]

Liquid Inferno

Clavis Lelouch Gen Fic Angst-adjacent (?) Word count estimate: 500

My entry for One Suitor, One Prompt CCC by @violettduchess. Something, something, fire water and what not -- on Clavis & sense of inferiority.

Content Warnings: alcohol

Poison, poison, burns my throat, Mommy says I’m still too small. His arm thrown over the shoulder of an elderly servant, Clavis dragged his legs, talon-like fingers grasping his wrist to steady him. His foot nearly slipped off the step. Again. He lifted his lead heavy head, drowsy eyes hurting at each glimpse of the sharply soft light swarmed around the candlestick carried by a maid. The staircase swayed, some wayward sea rocking the palace even as it stood on the solid ground. His stomach churned.

Poison, poison, burns my throat, Mommy says I’m still too small.

His arm thrown over the shoulder of an elderly servant, Clavis dragged his legs, talon-like fingers grasping his wrist to steady him. His foot nearly slipped off the step. Again. He lifted his lead heavy head, drowsy eyes hurting at each glimpse of the sharply soft light swarmed around the candlestick carried by a maid. The staircase swayed, some wayward sea rocking the palace even as it stood on the solid ground. His stomach churned.

“Ada, open the door to His Highness’s room.” Storm broke the calm, waves of his very own, very cold sweat washing over Clavis and pulling him under at once.

“No need,” he slurred, voice firm as he struggled to outshout non-existent thunderclaps.

They’d let him go, left him alone. Just as they should have, just as they could have, as anybody would. Molten yet unchanged, key bent in his hand when pressed into the lock. It turned, however, together with his entire world. Clavis tumbled forward.

Poison, poison, I can drink, burns don’t burn when I don’t think.

Cork slid out of the bottle with an audible pop. White foam climbed the glass neck, perhaps mimicking the boiling concerns trapped in Clavis’ throat; however, only one of them would erupt and thus be voiced. Golden gaze faltered, meek when in presence of effervescent beige. The champagne cooled his fingers, wetted his desk.

Clavis swallowed thickly, threatened by the plink of glass. Neck against rim, the twitch of his arm the falling axe – liquid swirled once inside the cup, its vortex a promise, a siren’s song… A banshee’s cry. Wilfully deaf, Clavis drank.

Practice makes perfect, or so he thought.

Poison, poison, I have drunk, Mommy calls, so it’s good- bye.

His gaze swept over the ballroom from above the rim of his glass. Clavis smiled to himself, his accomplice – grape juice tactfully poured in place of wine – returning the gesture with care. Not that anybody could realise, not from that far away. He sipped it, sweetness gaining a ferrous edge as the high tide began.

Waves of nobles surged, carried forth a fleet of inquiries and requests, perhaps praying for a lighthouse to appear and guide their way. Clavis stifled a laugh. The moonlight they all sought despite most sincere fright would be their demise, its very source the one who’d cast rocks into the shallows in the first place. He merely watched, first pieces of wreckage floating up to the surface, crushed against hard words. His older brother lifted a glass to his lips, displeased ice freezing the coast.

Clavis shook his head. He did not need to watch to know they’d be pulled by the moon, regardless of casualties that might occur… He did not need to, want to, watch for his own sake. His grape juice tasted stale, phantom fire scorching his throat and tongue. Even so, not even liquid inferno would burn as much as the shame of being inferior yet again.

--

Tag list: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[violettduchess]

Welcome to what I hope will be a fun, interesting writing challenge 🌌

After seeing the results of yesterday's poll, I'm going ahead with the One Suitor, One Prompt Content Creation Challenge.

Interested? Keep reading!

How will this work:

At the end of this post will be a poll which will determine which Ikemen game the challenge will be based off. I am only including games which have English localizations.

Once the game has been chosen by popular vote, all the main suitors from that game will be added to a choice wheel from pickerwheel.com

Fifteen generic prompts will be added to a second wheel (prompts are listed below)

Once the suitor and prompt have been chosen, the writing can begin!

The length/ type of fic (nsfw, fluff, angst, AU, etc) is entirely up to the writer. Anything goes.

Rules:

This challenge will start on August 5th and conclude on Sept 2nd. Sometime after that date, I will create a masterlist of all contributions.

This challenge is open to writers for the Ikemen fandom.

This is a challenge that can include nsfw content. Minors beware.

Participants may write as many entries as they like.

Please tag your work #one suitor one prompt ccc so I can find it and add it to the masterlist. Please tag me @violettduchess as well.

Feel free to use the banner above when posting works for this challenge.

Prompts:

water

shade

sunshine

rain

library

tears

writing

dancing

dressing up

ocean

flowers

laughter

morning

meal time

bedtime

Thank you and I look forward to seeing what you choose! 🌌

[nightghoul381]

Just a Harmless Prank~ Clavis x Reader

I needed a fluffy entry after what I did to myself with the first, so have some more Clavis love. And once again thank you @violettduchess for creating this challenge!

Clavis Lelouch x Reader Fluff

This was the third time today that you’d encountered one of the princes sopping wet as they hurried through the halls. The most recent victim, Luke, strides over to you leaving a trail of puddles in his wake.

“You know this is ‘cus of your fiancé, yeah?” he asks. Lips pouting, eyes wide, and hair clinging to his face; he looks like a miserable wet puppy.

“Yeah, I know… I’m really sorry, Luke.”

Your dear Clavis had been on a bit of a rampage when it came to traps since coming back from a two-week long trip to Jade. He seemed to feel that he needed to make up for lost time and had been relentless with laying traps all over the palace grounds. Honestly, you were surprised his arms hadn’t given out with the sheer number of pitfalls he’d been digging.

Ever the creator, Clavis had also recently devised a new trap that he had found to be quite amusing. He had found that filling a bucket with water and hoisting it into a tree with a set of ropes provided an excellently wonderful opportunity to disgruntle his brothers and the palace staff with far less effort than the pitfalls. He, of course, also had the delight of being able to watch their reactions as he could pull the rope from afar and cause the water to spill without being spotted immediately.

“I’ll try to have a talk with him about it.” You offer, knowing full well that your lover tended to disregard suggestions he didn’t deem ‘pleasurable’ enough.

Luke seemed to understand as well, nodding with an unconvinced smile before heading off to get changed into some dry clothes.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself to approach Clavis. After several minutes of searching, you still hadn’t found the lilac haired miscreant. The sun was relentless, and you decided to take a short break to catch your breath.

You ducked into the shade of a nearby tree, but recalled too late that your lover may have rigged the arboreal giant.

And rigged it he had, a huge gush or water spilled over you, soaking you completely.

Well at least I know you’re nearby, you think angrily.

“Clavis Lelouch!” You shout, glaring around the gardens for the tell tale shudder of plants revealing your fiance’s location. It takes no time at all before you spot him leaping from behind a nearby bush, running toward you with a panic-stricken look painting his features.

“Oh, my word. My dearest darling, I am so very terribly sorry! I thought you were one of the maids that I had sent for!” He frets, pulling you into his arms, and worrying over your hair and clothes.

“Oh, dearie me, I’ve really done it this time haven’t I. I suppose you’ll be fuming on account of your ruined clothes. I do hope this hasn’t put a damper… forgive me, poor choice of words. I do hope that this doesn’t upset the rest of your day, my love.”

He rapidly removes his cloak, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping is arm around your shoulder, leading you back into the castle.

Back in your room, Clavis continues to busy himself with fixing his mistake. He had already helped you into a fluffy robe and was hard at work drying your hair with a gentle hand.

“Clavis, really I’m fine,” You insist. You’re aware your words are falling on deaf ears, but perhaps they will calm him at least a little.

“I truly am very sorry my dear. I cannot begin to express the sheer level of shame I am currently feeling at my un-gentlemanly behavior.” He continued, genuine distress in his eyes.

You grab his hands to still him, and turn to look at him directly.

“I don’t mind that you pranked me. To be truthful, I actually found it a bit refreshing after I had gotten over the shock of it all. But I do want you to slow down the pranks. I’m your fourth victim today,” You laugh, lovingly placing a hand on his cheek.

He nuzzles into your touch, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm before looking back at you. His eyes were so warm, golden pools glittering with affection. And just as suddenly as the loving face had presented itself, his brow creased with confusion.

“Wait, did you say slow down the pranks? Not put a stop to them once and for all, you foolish fiend?”

“I feel that you wouldn’t really be you if the traps disappeared completely,” You admit, beaming a smile at him. “After all, I do believe that the occasional prank can be quite amusing.”

“So how slow must I become? Twice a day, would that be sufficient?”

“Clavis…” You warn, unable to hide the joy in your tone or the grin on your face.

Clavis drops his head and chuckles softly. “Very well, I will try to refrain from exceeding seven traps in a week. However, I have the liberty to decide when and where to use them, as well as who to use them on.”

He glanced back up at you, his amber eyes narrowed happily as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“How can I ever express how much I love you? You make me a better man without forcing me to change and for that I will be eternally grateful. I am certainly the luckiest man in the world to have you as my partner in crime.”

Taglist: @candied-boys @aquagirl1978 @ominousjangling @themiscarnival Feel free to message it you'd like to be part of my taglist ^u^

[violettduchess]

Masterlist

This was an interesting experiment and an overall positive experience.

A huge thank you to everyone who participated in something new! 💜

Game: Ikemen Prince Suitor: Clavis Lelouch Prompt: Water

Fics:

The Rube Goldberg Escalation - @the12thnightproject

The Fairy Tale's End - @nightghoul381

Just a Harmless Prank - @nightghoul381

Where does such tenderness comes from -@syneilesis

Only One Bed - @violettduchess

Portrait of a Gentleman -@queengiuliettafirstlady

The Dragon and the Leopard: Drizzle - @feather-and-fang-feathers-nest

Flower Petals in the Water -@kaizoku-musume

Liquid Inferno - @lorei-writes

TFW Things Go Wrong - @yarnnerdally

Changing Waters - @venulus

[violettduchess]

Ikemen Prince was chosen by popular vote to be the setting of this challenge!

But which suitor and prompt will everyone have to work with?

🛞 The Wheel of Chance has spoken! 🛞

Suitor: Clavis Lelouch, the 3rd Prince of Rhodolite

Prompt: Water 💦🌊💧 🌧️ ❄️🚢🚣‍♀️🚿

Reminder:

There we have it!

Best of luck to everyone participating 💜 I can't wait to see what you come up with!!

[violettduchess]

We have a poll winner for the One Suitor One Prompt Content Creation Challenge:

With 49.3% of the vote, Ikemen Prince was chosen as the setting for this challenge!

Next up:

Which suitor and prompt will Fate choose for us?

Stay tuned 😉

[violettduchess]

A/N: It was SUCH a close poll but Clavis managed to beat out both Gilbert and Cyran to win so he is the Prince suitor for @aquagirl1978 and my Summer Days Sultry Nights CCC.

The prompt was "Sundress"

I wanted to experiment a little with form. I had written one Leonardo fic last year that was only dialogue and wanted to try it again.

modiste: a fashionable milliner or dressmaker

WC: ~500

“Clavis? Could you come here a moment, please?”

“Is my lovely wife missing me already? I haven’t even left the room yet!”

“Clavis.”

“Alright little lamb, I’m coming. Oh dear, am I allowed behind the changing screen? I may see something I shouldn’t and my, wouldn’t that be scandalous.”

“Clavis, we’re married.”

“Ah yes, and what a dream it’s been since the wedding. I have a particularly fond memory of sneaking off during the reception and–”

“Clavis!”

“I’m here, Mrs. Lelouch and…….ah…..oh dear. Oh dearie me. What have you done?”

“Please help me. When I tried it on at the modiste, she helped me with all the straps. She made it seem so easy to get into this damned dress but now…..I think I’ve made a mess of it.”

“Hmm. I am quite certain that you are exposing body parts that are exclusively for the blessed eyes of your beloved husband and no one else. Let me just tuck that back–”

“Clavis, you have to fix the whole dress. Not just squish me into some of it! Also that hurts. They’re attached, you know.”

“Are they? I should feel again just to be sure and- ouch! My little bunny turns violent. It’s quite charming how fiery you are.”

“I will swat your hands away if you try that again. I just need- oof– help untwisting these straps here. I believe some of them should go across that way.”

“My, who knew garments could be so complex. Where is the style of simplicity?"

“Says the man who wears seven belts.”

“Only on occasion. Now be a sweetheart and bend your arm like so. Just….further down, darling.”

“My arm doesn’t bend that way!”

“Wait…wait…ah, I believe this particular strap goes like this. Much better. I should consult with your modiste when constructing my next trap. She appears to be a natural.”

“She would never. She is a lady.”

“So were you and I still managed to capture your heart, charm you until you couldn’t bear to be without me, fill your nights with dreams of Lelouchian delight.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.”

“Your tone notwithstanding, I know you are thrilled to be Mrs. Lelouch. And would Mrs. Lelouch care to duck underneath this strap, watch your head. Ah. My, my, would you look at that. It really IS a beautiful dress.”

“You did it!”

“Of course I did. I am a man of my word and also, I’m an incredibly talented– Mmmph.”

---------💋-------------------💋-------------------💋----------

---------💋-------------------💋-------------------💋----------

“You’re leaving me quite breathless, sweetheart. My eyes close and you kiss me, my eyes open and I see you in this positively marvelous dress with oh so much back exposed. I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“Husband.”

“Yes, my lovely wife.”

“You were able to wrangle me into this ordeal of a dress…..”

“Mmm hmm.”

“How about you now wrangle me out of it?”

“Oh?........Oh. OH. With the greatest of pleasure, my dear. The GREATEST of pleasure.”

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly